


Eomer Chronicles

by DeandraAlleyan



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Other, cameos of other familiar characters, tales of Eomer's life before he became king
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:35:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21983011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeandraAlleyan/pseuds/DeandraAlleyan
Summary: On fanfiction.net I have a very long series of Elfwine Chronicles (specifically stories about the family unit of Eomer, Lothiriel and their son Elfwine).  Over time, it expanded to include much more than that, and there are over 200 of the Chronicles (plus the prequel stories that set the stage by getting Eomer and Lothiriel married).  The Eomer Chronicles is the result of stories that preceded the Eomer/Lothiriel romance/marriage, but they are related to the series.  However, you should be able to understand them on their own.  They are random one-shots that jump around chronologically.  One thing to note:  while I try to keep fairly close to canon, my Gamling is essentially the one seen in the Peter Jackson films.
Kudos: 8





	1. Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Eomer becomes acquainted with a boy named Eothain. Eomer Chronicles 1_

(Edoras, 3002 III)

The three boys chased along the backstreet of Edoras, snatching at one another and laughing. Turning a corner, the leader and largest of the boys nearly collided with another lad who was approaching from the opposite direction. All of them skidded to an abrupt halt and stared warily at each other.

“Who are you?” the leader asked. “I have not seen you around before.” He ran a shirtsleeve across his runny nose.

The new boy facing him seemed about his age, and was fairly tall and gangly. He had the look of someone who had grown a few inches recently. Eothain noted the neatly combed hair and fine clothes that he wore, pegging him as one of the nobles’ sons. _Probably prissy and conceited._

“I am Eomer,” the boy answered quietly, after a moment, but offering no further information. “Who are you?” he asked in return, a flick of his eyes encompassing all three of them.

“I am Eothain. And this is Cadda and Aldfrid.” His eyes shifted at a movement behind Eomer and a young girl peeked around at them. “They have got you playing nursemaid, I see!” He let out a derisive laugh and the other boys did likewise.

“Be silent! Eowyn is my sister,” Eomer snapped authoritatively, startling Eothain.

 _Yep – prissy and conceited, just as he’d thought._ “Ooh, isn’t she cute,” he sneered. “Are you going to play dolls together?” Due to being larger than most boys his age, and both strong and agile, Eothain rarely feared a confrontation with others, and it was clear this lad was no match for him.

Eothain never saw the fist coming that smashed into the side of his face. He stumbled back as a fire lit in his eyes. “So that’s how it is? Well, I’ll teach you a lesson in manners!” With a growl, he launched himself at Eomer, taking them both to the ground, and the other two boys eagerly closed in to watch the scrap. Eothain had never lost a fight, and they didn’t anticipate this being the first time he did – this lad was in for a thrashing! No one in their right mind got Eothain angry!

“Eomer, don’t! Uncle won’t like it! Eomer!” Eowyn wailed at the scuffling boys.

Her pleas went unnoticed as the two tussled, partly because Eothain was finding this fight more difficult than expected. No one else could hold their own against him, but this gangly boy was doing pretty well for himself. What he lacked in muscle and weight seemed to be made up for with determination and…something else.

There was a rage in Eomer that must have bubbled below the surface until it was set off by the taunts. Now he didn’t seem to see or hear anything. There was just his fists flying as fast as he could throw them, and the apparent satisfaction at the sound of flesh meeting flesh. He didn’t even appear aware of Eothain’s blows that were landing on him in return, just the release that came with…hitting something.

Startled by the ferociousness of the attack, Eothain was doing little more than defending himself against the onslaught. He could not see that his words should have caused such a strong reaction in the other boy, and he wondered at Eomer’s behavior.

All of a sudden, something heavy landed on Eomer’s back, breaking his rhythm of punching. Only as his vision seemed to clear did he appear to notice that he was sitting on the other boy, and had been pummeling him for all he was worth. At least he was until the girl had interrupted. She had jumped on her brother’s back, wrapped her arms around his throat and then let the weight of her body do the rest, choking him into submission.

Eomer wrestled her arms away from his throat, coughing a little as air was able to return to his lungs. “Let go, Eowyn!” He was finally able to shrug her off, and rubbed at his neck.

“Uncle will be angry, Eomer! You should not fight!” his sister retorted, hands on hips.

Eomer glanced down at Eothain, who was gazing at him with surprise and caution. Eothain tentatively swiped at his nose that was trickling blood, and watched as a remorseful expression appeared on Eomer's face. Quickly he stood up off Eothain, then suddenly reached his hand down to help him up. “Sorry. I…I do not know what got into me.”

Eothain raised up on his elbows to stare at this odd fellow. _Give him a whipping like that and then apologize? When Eothain had been the one to start it?_ The hand still hovered in front of him and finally he reached to grab it, allowing Eomer to pull him to his feet.

“Your uncle really gonna be angry with you?” Eothain mumbled, not sure what else to say.

Eomer shrugged. “Maybe. I might be able to sneak in and change clothes before he finds out.”

“You new around here?” Eothain asked, brushing the dirt off his clothes.

A nod was the only answer, but then the boy explained, “We are from Aldburg.”

“Your parents move here, then?” Cadda inquired.

There was a long pause and Eothain noticed tears welling in the girl’s eyes – _Eowyn, was it? Something wasn’t quite right here…_

“No,” Eomer replied after a moment, then met the boy’s gaze squarely, “they died. We have come to live with our uncle now.”

All the air went out of Eothain’s lungs. _The boy had lost_ both _his parents? That was tough luck. This Eomer, he was alright._

“Yeah, well, then maybe we’ll see you around.” He pointed down the street they were on. “See that house at the end, on the right side? That is my house. Why don’t you come by tomorrow after breakfast and we can…you know.” He shrugged.

Eomer eyed him warily, then nodded. “If Uncle does not mind, I will come.”

“Yeah. Well, see you then,” Eothain answered awkwardly.

Catching Eowyn’s shoulder, Eomer steered her back toward the main road and Eothain watched them go. As they turned uphill off the side street, he curiously moved forward to trail behind them out of sight. _Where did they live? Did he know their uncle?_ By the time he got to the main road, the two were no longer alone. A man was with them and obviously questioning Eomer about his disheveled appearance. 

“Isn’t that…Theodred? The King’s son?” Aldfrid asked after a moment, as he and Cadda crowded up behind their friend.

Eothain’s eyes narrowed. “Yes,” he murmured. _Uncle? Theodred’s father? The_ King? 

His thoughts were interrupted by a voice calling for Cadda. “Have to go,” the boy said, waving as he dashed toward home.

“Guess I should get home, too,” Aldfrid said. “Mother will have supper ready soon. See you tomorrow?”

Eothain nodded absentmindedly, his thoughts still on the two newcomers. Slowly he turned and made for his own house, pondering the recent events. His father was just turning in the gate and waited for him, so that they entered the yard together. Glancing down, Garmund queried, “You been fighting again?”

Eothain shrugged. “Just a small argument. It did not last long.”

“And you won, I take it,” his father chuckled, all too aware of the boy’s reputation.

To his surprise, Eothain shook his head slightly. “Not exactly.”

Before Garmund could ask further questions, they had entered the house and Beornwyn was telling them, “Get washed. Supper is ready.”

They moved to the wash stand and the conversation lapsed. Once they were seated around the table and dishing food onto their plates, Garmund told them, “News from up at Meduseld. Marshal Eomund’s wife has passed on also. The King has brought her children to live with him.”

Eothain’s ears pricked up as his mother remarked, “Our poor Lord. He lost his dear wife and now his beloved sister as well. Will his house ever know happiness?”

“Aye,” Garmund murmured, tucking into his meal. “It is fortunate for the children, though, to have someone to take them in. Not all are so blessed.”

“What are their names?” Eothain asked curiously, though suspecting he already knew.

“Eomer and Eowyn,” his father replied, glancing at him. “I think the boy is about your age, Eothain. It might be nice if you befriended him.”

Fighting back a guilty blush, Eothain took a hasty bite of potato. After swallowing it to give himself time to appear nonchalant, he shrugged, “Maybe I will.” It was noncommital but, all things considered, he _had_ started on that path already – in a roundabout fashion, that is.

His thoughts went back to the fight and the sight of Eomer standing over him, apologizing and helping him up. Maybe the lad wasn’t so prissy and conceited after all…

THE END

2/22/09

2991 - Eomer born  
2992 - Eothain born  
2995 - Eowyn born  
3002 - Eomund killed by orcs; Theodwyn dies shortly thereafter (Eomer-11, Eowyn-7)

Aldfrid – “old peace”  
Cadda – unknown  
Beornwyn – “warrior joy”  
Garmund – “spear protector”


	2. Loss of Innocence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Eomer and Eowyn find their lives have drastically changed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eomer Chronicles 2: This was actually the first idea I had for this series, but the second to be finished.

**(Aldburg, 3002 III)**

“Eomer? Where are we going? Where is Mama?” Eowyn asked perplexedly. 

Her older brother’s hand tightened its grip on hers, and his jaw tensed as he struggled to hide his emotions. “We are going with Uncle Theoden and Cousin Theodred,” the boy explained curtly.

“But why?” his sister persisted. It had been a confusing night, with much rushing about of people and hushed tones. She had not slept well as she listened to the bustle of activity in the hall, and then this morning, when she peered out her door, many of the servants were weeping. The housekeeper, Betersel, had come personally to get Eowyn dressed, but she had shushed her questions, and it all frightened the little girl. Only the reassuring presence of her beloved brother, when he came to fetch her after breakfast, eased her distress.

Coming to a stop, Eomer sighed, then tugged Eowyn after him into the empty guest chamber nearby. The pale morning sunshine dimly lit the room as Eomer turned to face his sister. He had grown a couple of inches the past six months, making him quite a bit taller than the little girl, so he knelt down to be more on eye level with her. Taking her hands, he said, “Mama has died, Eowyn. She is gone to the Halls of Waiting like Papa.” There was a quaver to his voice, but he managed to keep the tears in check.

Eowyn, however, soon had brimming eyes and she flung her arms tightly around his neck. She sobbed for quite some time as he held her close, not entirely sure who was getting the most comfort from the embrace. At eleven years, he felt the need to behave like a man, and tears felt very weak and childish, but the strong surges of emotion he was feeling were hard to suppress.

After some time, a shaky voice asked from the vicinity of his dampened shoulder, “What will we do now?”

“We will go with Uncle Theoden to live at Edoras,” Eomer said firmly, pulling back to look her in the eye and brush her tousled hair out of her face. “Uncle and Theodred will take good care of us.” Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he added reassuringly, “Do not worry. I will be with you. I promised Mama that I would look after you and I will not fail.”

Eowyn’s lip quivered, but she nodded her understanding. Using his sleeve, Eomer wiped her wet cheeks to dry them, and then stood. “Come. They will be waiting for us and wondering where we are,” he told her, reaching for her hand again.

They made it as far as the head of the staircase before Eowyn dug in her heels and drew him to a halt. Looking earnestly up at him, she fervently avowed, “When I am grown, I will learn to use a sword and then I will fight! And I will kill all the orcs in the Mark!” Her eyes dared him to argue with her.

Girls did not fight – everyone knew that, Eomer thought, but he did not voice it. Still, it confirmed his suspicion that Eowyn understood more than anyone realized. No one had said that Theodwyn’s demise was due to her grief over the loss of her husband, but clearly Eowyn had made that connection. She had reasoned out that the orcs who killed their father had begun their sorrow. But, that future was a long way off and if it helped Eowyn to believe her words of valor, then he would let her do so. Certainly he intended to ride to battle just as soon as he was old enough. With any luck, by the time Eowyn was grown, there would be no need for her to even think of fighting orcs.

Reaching for her hand again, the siblings started down the stairs leading to their new life. 

THE END

9/11/08 – 2/28/09

Betersel = “more happiness” (better = betera, happiness = sæl)


	3. Ascension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Eomer returns to Edoras after the War._

(May, 3019 III)

“Welcome home, my lord!” A grizzled old warrior called to the party riding up the main road toward Meduseld, and Eomer acknowledged him with a brief lifting of his hand and glance in that direction, though his thoughts were more distant.

Eowyn rode silently beside him, her features cold and impassive, and he could well guess that this was no easier for her than it was for him. The people of Edoras had come out to watch their entry into the city, and lined the road mostly in silence, though he noticed a few murmured amongst themselves. He wondered what their thoughts might be – were they sorry that it was Eomer riding to claim the throne rather than Theoden returning victorious? He knew he was. And he was even more sorry that he was not riding alongside Theodred, as his Marshal, instead of entering alone as the king’s heir.

He could not even count the number of times he had made the trek up this hill. None of those previous times had he given any thought to the people he passed along the way. They went about their business as he had gone about his. But now all was changed. Did he read expectation and hope in their eyes? Or was it just wariness and concern? Was there any confidence that he could adequately fill his uncle’s boots, or were they merely resigned to their fate and whatever this new king brought upon them?

Until this day, this moment, he had felt at home in Edoras, and knew that he was well liked. His men had followed him willingly, some even eagerly, coming to trust his judgement in battle despite his young years, but the townspeople knew him less well, particularly of late. He had been away so much, riding over the Mark and defending their land, that he probably had not spent a month’s time in Edoras during the past year. They had watched him beside Theoden, and even alongside Theodred, but were they pleased or dismayed that he now stood at their head? Eorlingas were not an effusive people; only time would reveal their opinion.

During the past few months, with warfare surrounding them, and then victory celebrations abounding, he had managed to avoid pondering too deeply about his new position. But on the long road home, he could no longer hide from his thoughts and feelings. 

His own people would never bring it up, but friend Gimli had once asked him, as they sat around the fires at Cormallen, how he had felt when the king imprisoned him as a common traitor. It was a difficult question to answer. His new allies had not seen the many long years he had lived in the king’s household; they could not know the kindness and love that both his uncle and cousin had showered upon their orphaned relations. Eomer had struggled mightily with the deaths of his parents, his sense of obligation to watch over Eowyn, and his own place in the world. There was anger that he felt he could not freely express, and feelings he felt he must hide. 

An ill-advised flight back to Aldburg, back to his _home_ , had resulted in the king’s tracking him down, but that incident had brought a turn in their relationship. It might well be expected that the king of the Mark would have no time to spend raising children, and there were servants to deal with such a task. But Theoden had made time, both for Eomer and Eowyn. Though he had little experience with daughters, he had tried to be there whenever he was needed to listen, to guide and to comfort. 

Theodred had naturally found it easier to relate to his male cousin, despite the many years difference in their ages, and he could more readily include Eomer in his activities. Even so, he had taken time to be with Eowyn also, and Eomer knew that it was not only his own influence on his sister, but also that of their relatives, that had shaped her into the strong, capable woman that she was. It had been Theodred who allowed her to first pick up a sword and start on the path to being a shieldmaiden. Eomer had objected, insisting that girls had no place in battle, but Theodred had wisely explained otherwise. In dangerous times, he said, a woman should not have to count on a man for protection – one could not always be available. If he was away when enemies struck, he preferred knowing that the women he cared about had some chance of surviving until he or someone else could come to their aid.

Despite the absence of their parents, both he and Eowyn had felt loved and nurtured. It had not taken long to learn to love their relatives as closely as they had their parents. And then had come the darkness. No one had foreseen the treason of Theoden’s counsellor, Grima. Initially, though many thought him peculiar, they had not paid him much mind. But, as Theodred and Eomer were away more, keeping the Mark safe from increasingly persistent intruders, a change had come and Grima gained influence over the king. Eowyn had watched helplessly, doing what she could, but Theoden leaned too heavily on his counsellor’s words and advice, and Eowyn’s pleas fell on deafened ears. Slowly she had despaired as she was unable to leave her duty to attend the king, in order to go fight the darkness, but equally unable to be of much benefit to her failing uncle.

Eomer and Theodred had grown ever more torn between their duty to protect the Mark and their desire to be at Meduseld, even knowing there was little difference they could make there. It had been in a rare lucid moment that Theodred had managed to persuade his father that Eomer was ready to take on the responsibility of Third Marshal, and the deed was done before Grima could prevent it. Even if the king could no longer recognize the respect and love of his sister-son, Theodred did, and he needed to know Eomer had some power to act in the East-mark while he watched over the West-mark. In a way, that show of confidence in his cousin had probably contributed to Theodred’s downfall. Unable to break the bond of fealty between the two cousins, and turn them against one another, Saruman decided to permanently end it through death.

And Eomer had been the one to ‘benefit’ from all of the Worm’s machinations. Now both Theoden and Theodred were gone, and he alone ruled the Mark. But he had never desired that outcome – would never have sought it. Still, it had fallen to him, and in his great devotion to these beloved, valorous men, he could do nothing less than honor them with his service in their stead. They had chosen him to be next in line, though none had expected it to be necessary. Eomer had been taught the same things Theodred had learned – leading men in battle, the languages of their allies to the south, courtly behavior. He had been in council meetings, before Grima systematically shut out everyone but himself from the king’s close counsel, and had seen how a country was ruled. But never had he expected the day to dawn when he would actually have to step forward and lead.

Eomer’s party had arrived at the foot of the steps up to Meduseld, and without thinking the king dismounted and started to lead Firefoot toward the stables. He was startled when Eothain blocked his path and told him, “I will see to your horse, my lord.” Eomer was confused until he met his friend’s eyes and read the message there – _‘You are king now. That is not your place.’_

Swallowing a sigh, he handed over the reins and turned to mount the steps to the Golden Hall, Eowyn not far behind him. She had followed his example and allowed another to claim her horse, and they entered the cold, dark hall together. The heavy doors swung closed behind them, and for several long moments, the pair stood staring down the length of Meduseld toward the great gilded chair where Theoden had sat for as long as either could remember.

The hearth in the center of the room was cold, but a few torches along the pillars added to the light filtering in from the windows under the eaves. Dust particles swirled in the shafts of light, though all else was still as the great hall stood empty but for them. 

Without conscious thought, Eomer took a step forward, and then another, slowly progressing toward the throne, and Eowyn fell in at his right hand. A few feet short of the dais, however, they both stopped as if there had been a signal given. Eomer had always stopped at this point, bowing deferentially to his king and taking counsel with him. At such times, his sister had usually stood beside and slightly behind Theoden, much as she now stood beside and slightly behind him.

Unbidden, remembrances washed through his thoughts, of times shared with his uncle – happy times, tearful ones, instructive episodes and tense, fearful moments in recent days. All that was now ended. Theoden King would no longer guide him; Theodred would no longer help him find the right answers. From this time forward, he would have to determine his own way, and bear the full brunt of his mistakes. For a short while, Eowyn would remain and help him restore the kingdom, but too soon she would be gone and he alone would sit in that chair – and try not to dishonor those who had come before him.

Eowyn’s hand touched his arm, and he started from his reverie. “Shall…shall I send for your advisers?” she asked quietly.

He did not respond for several long moments, but finally murmured, “No, not yet. I am not ready.” He rubbed a weary hand over his face, a sudden tiredness overwhelming him. “There will be time enough for that…tomorrow.” Without another word, he moved past the throne to the door behind it which lead to the private chambers. Eventually, he also would be expected to claim Theoden’s room as his own, but not now, not yet. For just one more night he wished to sleep under this beloved roof as merely Eomer of Rohan. Tomorrow he would take up the mantle of king.

THE END

3/6/10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Post Note: Possibly this could have been an Elfwine Chronicle, but since it predates that series, I thought it fit better here. Keep in mind, however, that this series is connected to the Elfwine Chronicles by content. I keep all the same rules here that I have established there (as to who did what and when). The Eomer here is the same Eomer as there._
> 
> _3002 – Eomund killed by orcs, Theodwyn died soon after; Eomer and Eowyn go to live at Meduseld (Eom-11; Eow-7)_  
>  3014 – King Theoden begins to fall under Grima’s influence (Eom-23; Eow-19)  
> 3017 – Eomer made Third Marshal (Eom-26; Eow-22)


	4. Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Eomer learns a lesson while trying to give one._
> 
> ONE-SHOT. Part 4 of the Eomer Chronicles.

**(June, 3003 III)**

The air was torturously returning to his lungs, and with it came awareness of his situation. There wasn’t any pain, exactly, but he knew intuitively that he was going to be very sore on the morrow – and likely for several days after. Probably he would even sport some bruises where he had made contact. 

He became consciously aware of his face pressed into the dirt; a bit of it had worked its way into his mouth and he reflexively spat it out. Gradually he heard the murmur of voices, and then gentle hands turned him onto his back. He blinked open his eyes to meet the questioning gaze of his cousin. A flicked glance at the faces arrayed behind Theodred revealed a mixture of concern…and amusement.

They knew what he had been so rudely reminded of just now – _you can’t push a young horse too fast. Set aside your own impatience and go at his speed._ Eomer had _known_ that, but he was so anxious to impress these men, to be accepted into their ranks as an equal, that he had ignored the warnings – in his own thoughts, in the horse’s behavior, and in Theodred’s eyes.

Gritting his teeth, he shoved himself to a sitting position, and then stood without accepting the aid of his cousin’s arm. He didn’t bother brushing the soil from his clothing as he turned to face the colt who was eyeing him warily. “I am well,” he announced firmly. “Let us try again.”

The men smiled approvingly as he moved forward in a less aggressive manner. The lad was willing to learn – excellent!

THE END

10/23/10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**Post Note: In case you are wondering, the horse in question is NOT Firefoot. Here Eomer is about twelve years of age. I envision Firefoot, during the Ring War, as a well-seasoned campaigner, and so he would likely be at least ten years old by then. In Elfwine Chronicle 83, “Passing”, I have Firefoot as 27 in the year 14 IV – that would mean he was born around 3008 III (give or take, depending on how you calculate the Age change from III to IV). Since the Eomer Chronicles do tie to the Elfwine Chronicles, you can go with that and assume that Firefoot isn’t born for about another 5 years.** _
> 
> __**3002 – Eomund killed by orcs, Theodwyn died soon after; Eomer and Eowyn go to live at Meduseld (Eom-11; Eow-7)  
>  3014 – King Theoden begins to fall under Grima’s influence (Eom-23; Eow-19)  
> 3017 – Eomer made Third Marshal (Eom-26; Eow-22)**


	5. Initiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Eomer’s first battle doesn’t turn out as he expects._
> 
> Eomer Chronicles 5.

(October, 3007 III)

His insides lurched and roiled, until finally he was unable to stop his morning meal from boiling into his throat and spewing on the ground. There was not even time to conceal himself from the others, hide his weakness. He fell to his knees, his hands splayed on the ground as he heaved repeatedly, until nothing more would come. Amid the dirt and sweat, he felt hot dampness trickling over his cheeks – more humiliation! Purging _and_ tears – what had ever made him think he was equal to this?

He had trained seemingly since he was a child, when he had played with the wooden sword and shield given to him by his uncle. As he grew, and watched his father ride to battle, his efforts became more focused on gaining skill. When orcs claimed Eomund’s life, Eomer’s determination had been fixed. 

But no amount of sparring, no hours of training on horseback could prepare him for this…horror. The noise…the confusion…the shrieks of pain…and death. There had been little time to think, just keep striking with his sword and hope that he could survive. Now, in the aftermath, he gazed across ground littered with the enemy, but also he looked upon the bloody remains of more than a few of his companions. Before today he had given little thought to blood, until he witnessed so much of it spilled and wasted.

A strong hand fell upon his shoulder, gripping it tightly, and with bleary resignation he looked up. It was some relief to meet the familiar face of Elfhelm rather than another. Elfhelm had served his father and dined in their home on more than one occasion, so Eomer had been acquainted with him as a boy. After Eomund’s death, followed soon after by the Marshal’s wife, the children had gone to Meduseld to live with their uncle. But Elfhelm had made a point to visit whenever he was in the city, and had both encouraged and supported Eomer as he trained once he became of age. Through Elfhelm’s influence, the lad had been placed in the same eored where he served, and Eomer had appreciated having him near, acting as a mentor.

Silently, Elfhelm handed him a waterskin. He took a quick mouthful, swished it around and spat it out, then thirstily drank some down. After stoppering it, he shakily pushed to his feet and handed it back. In his embarrassment, he could not meet Elfhelm’s gaze, but the older man understood more than he thought.

An arm went around his shoulders. “Do not be ashamed. You are not the first, nor the last, to react in such a way. Indeed, most everyone does that first time. Trust me – it _does_ get easier.”

Eomer nodded, not entirely believing the words of consolation, however much he wanted to do so. How could he not be ashamed when he had so disappointed his king…and his father? He had intended to vindicate both of them, almost believing he would defeat the enemy singlehandedly and finally drive them from their lands. His efforts in that regard were laughable. His stomach churned more at the realization of his failure.

Elfhelm’s arm urged him back toward their horses, but after a few moments he remarked, “Every man thinks he will be the best, most fearsome warrior ever seen; that the enemy will quail at his coming. But this…this is the reality for all of us. They do not flee – they stand and fight. And the best we may hope for is that our skill enables us to survive until the battle is ended. Though, along the way, we strive to eliminate as many of them as we can. In time, your skill will grow. You will better be able to block out the sounds and confusion, and focus on doing what needs doing. When that time comes, you will no longer recognize yourself as you are here today. Do not despair, Eomer. You did well. The King…and Eomund…will be pleased.”

Eomer swallowed hard, swiping at the sweat on his face, then gave an acknowledging nod of his head. Elfhelm would not lie to him, nor soften his words with false promises. He _could_ do this; he _would_ do this. And, perhaps, eventually other young men need never witness such a scene as he had this day.

THE END

5-9-11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eomer b 2991; Elfhelm b 2975 – so 16 yrs older  
> 3002 – Eomund killed – Eomer 11, Elfhelm 27
> 
> __  
> **3002 – Eomund killed by orcs, Theodwyn died soon after; Eomer and Eowyn go to live at Meduseld (Eom-11; Eow-7)  
>  3014 – King Theoden begins to fall under Grima’s influence (Eom-23; Eow-19)  
> 3017 – Eomer made Third Marshal (Eom-26; Eow-22)**


	6. Memento

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Loss is an unavoidable part of battle._
> 
> _Eomer Chronicles 6. The total number will depend on how many ideas I get for new vignettes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _A/N: Well, you figure out the connection – this came to me as I was rereading the finale of the last book of the Harry Potter series. Why that segued to Eomer, I have no idea!_

**(Feb 3013, III)**

Eomer swiped a dirty hand over his sweat-streaked face and scooted farther back out of sight of the battle. Not far from him his faithful mount, Tungol, still twitched in the final throes of death, and he swallowed hard to keep the bile from rising into his throat. His first war mount, trained by Eomer himself with a little help from Theodred. And now he was gone. He could not quite shake the feeling that it was an omen of some sort, but he chose not to reflect on what it might mean if it was. 

Forcing his thoughts away from the dying horse, he focused on his situation. Horse dead, sword broken, and the battle still being fought. If he was discovered here, the knife in his boot would afford only so much protection. The best he could say was that he himself was uninjured. 

Shifting onto his knees, he peered from the scrub brush that concealed him, searching the field for something to improve his lot. There were several riderless horses, for the moment being ignored by the orcs, though if the enemy won he was sure some of the poor creatures would become supper this night. A mount was good, but a sword was essential. Unarmed on horseback all he could do was flee, and that he would not do.

Crawling carefully to his left, he tried to get a better vantage around Tungol. He was not the only fallen rider; several of his companions lay still and bleeding, less fortunate than he had been. Cadda was sprawled in a twisted heap, his eyes staring unseeingly at Eomer’s hiding spot, and for a moment he allowed grief to tinge this heart. They had grown up together after he moved to Edoras. Along with Eothain and Aldfrid, Cadda was one of his first friends in his new home. His jaw tightened – he could mourn later, if he survived, but right now there were more urgent matters that needed his attention.

Then he saw it. Partially beneath Cadda’s limp body was the sword he had borne. An orc dashed by just then, causing Eomer to shrink swiftly back out of sight, but as it screeched away from him, it took no notice of his presence. Already a Rider had moved to pursue, quickly sending an arrow deep into the creature’s back before hastening on to the next.

Now was his chance, with little fighting taking place nearby. Keeping low, he shoved to his feet and bolted for Cadda’s body to tug the sword free. Wheeling about, his eyes scanned the vicinity and he spotted Cadda’s horse, Sunnstrel, circling in confusion near its fallen master. That seemed his likeliest bet, as there were none nearer, but as he moved to catch the horse, two more orcs appeared, forcing him to turn and parry their blows. It was a challenge fighting two at once, especially on foot, but the blood rushing in his ears pounded a reminder of Cadda’s frozen gaze, and he slashed at them with a ferocity they could not withstand until both lay dead. 

Not pausing for an instant, he moved again toward Sunnstrel, talking soothingly. The horse knew him and so allowed his approach, though he danced with agitation when Eomer swung quickly into the saddle. “Easy, easy,” Eomer soothed, stroking the tense neck in front of him. He well knew that Rohirric horses did not like any but their masters riding them, but Sunnstrel would have to accept a new rider now, and together they would make these beasts pay dearly for Cadda’s life.

As the horse settled beneath him, Eomer turned into battle once more. Let this day be won and then he could think about tomorrow – about carrying the news to Cadda’s family and grieving with them. The overcast sky that had been threatening rain since break of fast, now opened up. Realizing that mud would put them at a disadvantage to the Riders, the orcs began to retreat, but Eomer did not let up his attack. Left and right, he disposed of them with fierce precision. Only when he heard the horn sound, calling the Riders to fall back, did he stay his sword.

He was breathing almost as heavily as his mount, but Eomer gave no thought to his tiredness or the cold beginning to seep into him from the drenching rain. He nudged the horse back to Cadda’s side and dismounted, throwing his friend’s cloak over his body with respect. He and Sunnstrel stood gazing down on the mound before them for several long minutes.

And, then, his eyes fell one last time on Tungol, and he slowly moved over to kneel beside him. They had been set upon by three orcs, and while he had been dealing with the two on the right the third had managed a death blow to Tungol’s unprotected neck. Bad enough that, but then his sword blade broke while killing the two, leaving him with just a jagged fragment in the hilt. Before he could react, the orc on his left also slashed the horse’s foreleg, and Tungol gave out a groan as he crashed heavily to the earth. Unbalanced by it, Eomer had thought for a moment that the orc might have him, but Tungol fell away from their attacker, buying him a few precious seconds. And in that instant, a powerful sword stroke from a passing Rider had separated the orc’s head from its body. Elfhelm. Whether he was protecting Eomer or merely dispatching an enemy, Eomer did not know, for he rode past at a gallop and did not look back. Eomer had no doubt that the sacrifice of Tungol’s life had spared his own. He let his hand rest on the still warm neck, a final caress in parting.

That young horse he had been bringing along, Firefoot – it looked as though it was time for him to step up as Eomer’s battle mount. He could only hope Firefoot would prove as faithful. Without conscious thought, Eomer drew his dagger and moved to Tungol’s haunches. An instant later, the horse’s long tail was in his hand. He was not sure why he wished to keep it, but he wanted to always remember the friend who had served him so well. Carefully he tucked the white horsetail into his belt and turned away.

_“Then one rode forward, a tall man, taller than all the rest; from his helm as a crest a white horsetail flowed.” - JRRT_

THE END

5-28-11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tungol – “star”  
> Sunnstrel – “sun dart”
> 
> 3008 – Firefoot born
> 
> 3002 – Eomund killed by orcs, Theodwyn died soon after; Eomer and Eowyn go to live at Meduseld (Eom-11; Eow-7)  
> 3014 – King Theoden begins to fall under Grima’s influence (Eom-23; Eow-19)  
> 3017 – Eomer made Third Marshal (Eom-26; Eow-22)


	7. Bridges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Theoden struggles in developing a relationship with his nephew._  
>  Eomer Chronicles 7

**(Edoras, late May, 3003 III)**

“My lord?”

Theoden roused from his reverie. He had been watching his nephew depart through the large doors at the other end of the Great Hall, and became inattentive to his steward.

“I am sorry. My mind was elsewhere. We are finished, unless you have something more to discuss.”

The man gave a respectful bow and moved away, but already Theoden’s thoughts had turned again to his musings.

What to do about Eomer, that was the question. Theoden sighed heavily. Eowyn was beginning to settle, though she still clung to Eomer and always wanted to be with him. But she was speaking more, and the king sensed a resiliance in the child that would see her through this. 

Eomer was another matter. The lad carried a heavy weight on his young shoulders, put there entirely by himself. He accepted some help from his kin, but seemed to believe he must be a man now, and take full responsibility for his and Eowyn’s well-being. Theoden also sensed a deep anger in the boy, and he could readily understand it. His life had been torn apart and there was frustratingly little that he could do about it. He was not old enough to seek his revenge on the orcs who killed his father, or even work off his turmoil in intense battle training. His lessons did not fully engage his mind, or provide an outlet for the unrest inside him. That flight to Aldburg had been a desperate cry for normalcy in his life, and Theoden did not know how to give it to him.

He had tried talking to him, making time to be with him, but there was always a restraint in Eomer. He was holding back his emotions and thoughts, perhaps fearful of being wounded further if he trusted…or loved again.

Well, the very least he could do for Theodwyn was to care for her son as if he were his own. He would not allow the difficulty of the situation to make him give up. Perhaps it would merely take time for the boy to become confident in their affections for him, and believe that he could return them without fear.

“Father?”

He blinked in surprise, glancing up. “Oh, Theodred. I did not know you had returned. All is well in the Westfold?”

“Yes,” Theodred answered slowly, eyeing his father with curiosity. “Are _you_ well?”

The king smiled at his son. “I am.” He rose to lay a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “I am merely trying to determine how to help Eomer…adjust. He has been through so much, yet I feel he distances himself from us. I would have him feel at home here, and at ease with us.”

Theodred nodded, his expression solemn. “I have noticed. I try to encourage his speaking of his concerns, but he will not be drawn out.” 

They stood in silence for several minutes, until Theodred announced, “Perhaps he would like to learn to carve wood. I know that has been a restful pastime for me. Maybe it would help settle his fretful thoughts if he is able to concentrate on something outside himself.”

Theoden nodded his approval. “A good idea. As for me…” A sudden inspiration came to him. “Eomund said the boy was good with horses. Perhaps it is time that he has his own to train. That, too, would give him an occupation for his time and energy.”

“A better use of it than trips to Aldburg?” Theodred asked pointedly.

“Indeed!” Theoden chuckled, then sobered. “I tried not to have him think I was angry with him about that, but I am not sure that I succeeded. He seems even more wary of me now than before. I must find some way to gain his trust.”

“You will, Father, I have no doubt. Eomer is much like his father was, and Eomund did not trust easily either. In many ways, Eomer has even greater reason not to do so, but between us we will make him see that he can and should.”

They walked to Theoden’s study, their talk turning to matters in the Westfold, but Theoden kept his decision in the back of his mind. Early the next morning, he arranged for certain horses to be placed in the small paddock just outside the royal stables. Satisfied, he joined the family for the morning meal. It was a fairly quiet affair. Theodred talked cheerfully, as was his wont, but Eomer remained mostly silent save for when he was directly spoken to or asked a question. Occasionally Eowyn would chime in, but Theoden could not say that the meal was without strain.

When it was clear that everyone was finished, Theoden signaled their dismissal, but then as he rose, asked, “Eomer, will you walk with me?”

The boy looked uncertainly at him, surprised by the request, and Eowyn clearly was about to ask to join them. However, Theodred had discerned his father’s purpose and interceded. “Eowyn, shall we go for an early ride before I must be about my day?”

The girl’s eyes lit up at the offer and she readily consented, allowing Theodred to lead her from the room, though she cast a worried look back at her brother. Eomer tried to reassure her with a smile, even though he did not feel very assured at the moment. But the king’s question hung in the air, and he must answer. “Of…of course, Uncle. If you wish it.”

Theoden kept his expression impassive and gestured to the boy, laying an arm about his shoulders as they exited the chamber to the Hall. They walked in silence the length of it, Theoden waving off his steward who would have joined them. Eomer continued to steal worried glances at his uncle, though he dared not speak or ask the reason for this audience.

They had exited onto the front terrace and started down the steps before Theoden spoke. “I fear sometimes my duty as king does not allow me so much time with my family as I would wish. I would not have you or Eowyn feel neglected by me.”

This declaration seemed to call for some response on his part, and Eomer respectfully replied, “We do not feel neglected, Uncle. We know you are busy.”

Careful, polite remarks, and not what Theoden was seeking. They strode to the small paddock that contained several horses, and Theoden came to a stop, leaning on the fence to pensively watch the animals mill about the enclosure. 

Eomer mimicked his posture and tried not to worry about the reason his uncle might have singled him out for conversation. He still was not sure that the king wasn’t angry with him. He knew he shouldn’t have ridden to Aldburg on his own, but he was jumping out of his own skin lately, and simply had to run…somewhere. Aldburg was the only place he could think to go. And, yet, when he got there, he had not found solace. He had worried the entire time about what Theoden would say and do when he was discovered missing, he had worried about leaving Eowyn, and in the end he was almost glad when the king came to retrieve him. He could have hoped it was Theodred instead of his uncle, as Theodred seemed more easygoing and understanding, but that had not been the case. The king _said_ he was not angry, but Eomer did not feel assured that was so.

Finally, Theoden seemed ready to explain why they had come here. Turning to look at the boy, he said simply, “Eomer, I cannot promise you that those you love will never die. Already you know that is not true. But you cannot let that knowledge make you afraid to care about others, fearful of losing them as you have lost your parents. Whatever else you know, or even just believe, know this – I love both you and your sister as if you were my own children. I will continue to love you so long as I draw conscious breath, and Theodred feels just the same. The loss of his mother at his birth meant he had no opportunity for brothers or sisters, and though he is quite a bit older, he does desire to have you and Eowyn consider him a brother.”

Eomer’s jaw tightened and he looked away, to follow the movements of the horses rather than meet his uncle’s gaze. It was difficult to contain his emotions, but Eowyn was counting on him to care for them now. He must be a man, and men did not show weakness with tears.

Theoden’s arm came around his shoulder again, noting the slight tremor as he did, and then said quietly, “I do not ask to replace your parents; you loved them dearly, as did I. But neither would I have you believe that you are alone in the world save for Eowyn. _We_ are here for you; _we_ will care for you for as long as we are able. You may hold to that when the world seems an uncertain place. And if anything were to happen to you, we would be there for Eowyn, just as we would for you, if she were taken from us.” He sighed heavily and added, “I would not see you struggle so with the burdens you have taken on yourself. I am sure my sister asked you to look after Eowyn, but I know she did not mean for you to do it all on your own. She laid that same charge on _me_ , to look after both of you. And I do not regret having agreed to it.”

Eomer swallowed hard, his eyes swimming with the tears he would not let fall, but Theoden looked away, giving him time to recover. After several minutes had passed in silence, Theoden gestured into the paddock. “The dark gray colt there, over by that post. He is a son of my own Snowmane, and I have named him Tungol. Your father often spoke proudly of how accomplished you are with horses, and he fully intended to find a good mount for you. I think perhaps Tungol might suit you, if you would be interested in taking on his training.”

The boy’s head jerked around to stare at Theoden, and then quickly turned back to the horse. It was overwhelming to think he was being given his own horse, and one he could train all on his own. After a moment, though, he honestly admitted, “I…I am not sure I know enough to train him on my own.”

“Perhaps not,” Theoden replied with a shrug, detecting the reluctance in the lad’s voice at confessing he might not be equal to the task, “but Theodred will help whenever he is at Edoras, and there are plenty of men in the stables with much experience. They will help you when you need it.”

Eomer brightened at the renewed hope, his mind already forming ideas on how to proceed. After a moment, he climbed the fence and dropped into the paddock, moving slowly over to the colt to take a closer look, and Theoden smiled as he watched the boy’s eagerness. 

Yes, this had been a very inspired idea. There were still likely to be difficult patches ahead in their relationship, but he had the feeling this one act alone might build a bridge more quickly than any other. He chuckled to himself; _his_ hope had been renewed as well.

THE END

5/15/12 – 5/31/12

Tungol – “star”


	8. Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Eomer tries to run from his troubles._
> 
> **Eomer Chronicles 8. The total number will depend on how many ideas I get for new vignettes.**

**(Edoras, early May, 3003 III)**

“You sure about this?” Eothain’s eyes flicked nervously around, making certain they had not been noticed, then settled back on Eomer.

The other lad nodded. “Yes. I…I must go. I cannot stay here.” There was a note of pleading for understanding in Eomer’s voice, though he had not spoken an actual reason. 

After a moment, Eothain nodded. “With my old clothes on, the guards will not take much notice of you, and I am allowed to go out riding on the barrowfields. We leave together just before the guard changes, and after a good long while I will return. If we are fortunate, the new guards will not know there should be two of us.”

Eomer gathered the reins of the horse Eothain had managed to get for him, swallowing hard to quell the excitement – and panic – sending spasms through his stomach. Without a word, the boys mounted and departed once Eothain had determined there was no one near who might challenge them. Eomer carefully fell in on the side of his friend that would be farthest from the guards, though he was not sure they would recognize him anyway. Eothain’s clothes were baggy on him and he had carefully mussed his hair and smudged his face with dirt to disguise his features.

As they drew near the gate, the guards looked at them with mild interest, but Eothain gave them a friendly wave and they were permitted to pass on through. “Do not go far,” one of the guards cautioned, and Eothain waved again in acknowledgement.

They trotted along until they were safely out of view of the gate guards, and then drew to a halt. _This is it_ , Eomer thought.

“Be…be careful,” Eothain warned. “My father says the orcs are becoming bolder. So far they have stayed away from the bigger towns, but you might still meet some on the road, and it is a long way to Aldburg.”

“Orcs do not like the daylight,” Eomer replied, with false confidence. “And I will be there before nightfall. I should be safe enough.” He fished at the back of his waist, under his shirt, and drew forth a sheathed dagger. “And I snuck this from Theodred’s room, in case I need it.”

Eothain chewed his lip in silence, then finally said, “Good luck, Eomer.”

There seemed to be nothing more to say, and Eomer had no reason to delay longer. To do so would increase the chances of his being caught. “Thank you for your help. I will see that the horse gets back to you.”

Eothain watched for a long time as Eomer slowly disappeared into the distance. He was probably going to get into a good deal of trouble for this, but no matter. His father had always stressed that you stood by your friends, even at difficult times. Eomer said he needed to do this, and that was good enough for Eothain. 

He just hoped nothing would happen to his friend on the road. The possibility of orcs still worried him. He had heard enough of them from his father to know they were fearsome creatures. All the men hated them vehemently. But Eomer was on a good horse – probably he could outrun them if he did meet up with any. Yes, his friend would probably be safe. Probably.

At first, Eomer kept up a hard gallop, intent only on putting as much distance as possible between him and Edoras before he might be discovered missing. He couldn’t be sure when exactly that would happen, though luckily only Eothain knew where he was going and so it would take pursuers time to figure it out.

After a league, though, he drew to a walk for a time. He was too much a horseman even at so young an age to misuse his mount. Now that he had slowed, he could enjoy the unexpected freedom and was more aware of the country around him. If he stayed on the road, it would be difficult for anyone to approach him without being seen. That ought to give him warning if there _were_ any orcs around. Another reason not to overtax his horse – he wanted him fresh enough to outrun them if it became necessary.

For the next hour Eomer varied his pace, all his senses attuned to getting to Aldburg, _getting home_. It wasn’t that he disliked Edoras, or that his uncle and cousin didn’t care for him – it was not so. But ever since coming to Meduseld after his mother died, something had churned inside him, seeking release. He couldn’t put words to it, so how could he explain it to others if not to himself? Theodred encouraged his confidences, but he could not seem to let down his guard. To do so meant you could be hurt, it meant pain, and he had already had more than enough of that.

He was grateful that Eothain had so willingly helped him, as he was not sure he could have done it on his own. There would have been no way to sneak a horse from his uncle’s stables, and a guard would have been sent with him if anyone knew he was going outside the gates. 

For all that he had bloodied Eothain and blacked his eye on their first encounter, he had become a true friend. Certainly his sticking his neck out to do this proved it. Whatever it took, Eomer would find some way to repay him. Such friends as that were rare. He just hoped Eothain wouldn’t be in too much trouble when Eomer’s absence was discovered.

xxx

“Where is Eomer?” Eowyn asked insistently, and the nurse shook her head in irritation.

“I have told you, child, I do not know where your brother is. Likely he is off playing with his friends. He will be home by supper, I am sure. Now, eat your dinner.”

Theoden was entering the chamber and caught the conversation. “Eomer is not here?” he asked.

The nurse instantly became more formal. “No, my lord. I believe he went to play with his friends after breakfast. Likely he is taking his meal with one of them.”

Theoden nodded as he sat down next to Eowyn, giving her a warm smile. “So, it is just the two of us? A rare treat! What have you been doing today, Eowyn?”

Distracted by the attention, Eowyn began telling of her morning activities as Theoden dished his plate with food. Even as he listened, though, a niggle of concern settled at the back of his mind. Eomer had kept his thoughts to himself ever since arriving here, and would not let them into his confidence, so it was difficult knowing what was going on in the boy’s head. Yet, Theoden sensed his unrest, an anger and frustration bubbling below the surface and seeking an outlet. For all his reserve, though, Eomer had ever been polite and dutiful. If he was not to be here for a meal, Theoden would have expected him to send word of his whereabouts. It concerned him that such had not happened this time as it had in the past.

With the meal ending and her own tales told, Eowyn’s thoughts turned again to her brother, and she voiced it once more. “But where is Eomer, Uncle? I want to see him!”

“I know, little one, but he is off playing. We will see him at supper. I suppose we must find other things to occupy our time until then. And I believe you have some lessons that will keep you busy this afternoon.”

Eowyn’s face reflected her annoyance at having to do lessons while Eomer played, but she managed to keep silent and do as she was told. She was not yet confident enough to challenge her uncle or cousin on anything they told her to do, and Mama had always told her she must be respectful of the King.

The nurse led Eowyn away, her frown expressing her displeasure even if she dared say nothing, but Theoden had already struck off for his study. Calling to his steward, he instructed, “Find Hama and send him to me.”

Moments later, Hama stood in the doorway. “You sent for me, my lord?”

“Yes, Hama. Eomer did not join us for dinner. Probably there is no cause for alarm, but would you have someone look around and find out where the lad is, just in case?”

“Of course, my lord.” He moved quickly away, back to the Hall and signaled to one of his men. “Garmund, does not the king’s nephew sometimes spend time with your son?”

“He does,” Garmund acknowledged.

“Would you go and see if they are together, and that all is well? The king is wondering why Eomer did not come for the noon meal, or send word that he would be absent.”

“I will look into it,” Garmund replied, with a short bow.

It did not take long for him to reach his home, but neither boy was there and his wife advised they had asked for some food to take on a picnic. A check of the stables showed that their two horses were missing. Although nothing seemed amiss in any of this, Garmund had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach that all was not as it appeared. He set off for the gate, though surely the guards would not allow Eomer to leave without an escort.

The two men who greeted him acknowledged that his son had been riding on the barrowfields, and returned a short while ago, but he had been alone. After thanking them, Garmund started the trek back up the hill, but stopped to gaze around him, rubbing his jaw. Something was amiss. He felt sure of it. A thought struck him, and he headed for the guard hut, to learn who had been on duty when his son went outside the gates. Once he had the names, he headed for the nearest man’s house. 

If he was surprised at the visit from Garmund, he did not remark on it, merely inviting him inside. Garmund declined, but pursued his purpose, “My son went out on the barrowfields this morning while you were on watch. Was he alone?”

“No, sir. There was another boy with him, one I did not recognize.” He shifted nervously, wondering if something were the matter and he was in trouble.

“Hmmm. Thank you,” Garmund told him absentmindedly, turning away. He was not liking the look of this at all.

It took a while to locate Eothain within the town, but at length Garmund found him with Cadda and Aldfrid. He could not miss the guilty expression on his son’s face when he saw his father coming to him in the middle of the day. He rose slowly from the game they had been playing, and the other boys eyed them questioningly from where they squatted on the ground.

Garmund gestured for his son to step away from the others, and they walked a few feet down the road for a little privacy. Coming to a stop, Garmund caught his son’s shoulder, turning Eothain to face him and looking him squarely in the eye. “The king’s nephew, Eomer, has gone missing, Eothain. Is he not a friend of yours?”

“Y…yes,” Eothain admitted reluctantly, but unwilling to lie. He offered nothing more.

“Theoden is very worried about him, son. What do you know of Eomer’s whereabouts?” Garmund persisted, intuitively certain his son was not innocent in this matter, even if the evidence hadn’t already implicated him.

“I…he is gone to Aldburg,” Eothain confessed on a sigh. “He is my friend,” he added defiantly. “He said he must go, and so I helped him.”

Garmund rubbed his face wearily. Of course. Some thought Eothain was a bully because of his size, but in truth the lad had a big heart. Still, the king would not be pleased. However, at least they knew where to look, and that was something. “I will talk with you more about this later,” Garmund said, turning away. Chastisement could wait; they needed to find Eomer before anything could happen to him. The boys did not understand how dangerous this undertaking truly was.

xxx

Eomer had stopped to eat his meager provisions of bread and cheese when he heard them. At first he did not understand what the tramping sound indicated, but some inner voice told him to hide quickly, and he heeded it without conscious thought. Concealed in a thick clump of bushes, Eomer kept a hand over the horse’s nose to keep him silent as he peered out. In only a few moments, a group of some dozen creatures jogged into view. They were scabby, foul things and he knew at once that these were the orcs his father so often spoke of, and had died fighting.

At the sight of them, Eomer’s blood roared in his ears, filling him with a rage at all the pain and trouble they had cost him. He wanted nothing more than to charge forth from his hiding place and slay them all. But in the next moment, he calmed, knowing instinctively how foolish such an act would be. He had seen what they did to his father’s body, Eomund who’d had a sword in his hand and an eored of men behind him. One boy with a knife would stand no chance at all. To act foolishly would only mean causing Eowyn more pain when she learned of his death. No, he must avoid them…for now. When he was ready, when he had trained and was prepared, then he would make them pay.

They took no notice of his hiding place, but trotted past in tight formation, intent on wherever they were going. As soon as they were gone from sight, and he could no longer hear their footfall, he remounted and hastened onward. It was late-afternoon when he reached the gates of Aldburg. The gate guards let him pass, eyeing him curiously that such a young lad would be traveling alone, but better that he was inside than out in these times.

Now that he was here, Eomer was a little uncertain how to proceed. His home was here, yes, but he suspected Betersel would send word to the king of his presence if he showed himself, and he did not wish that. He knew there was an empty barn on the far side of the town. The owner had died and none of his family presently lived in the house or used the barn. That would make a good place to put his mount for now. 

There was still some old, dusty hay in the barn, and he shook it to knock the worst of the dust out before giving it to the horse, along with a bucket of fresh water from the well. He settled down on a forgotten crate to consider his situation. 

When he decided to flee Edoras and come here, he had not really given much thought to what he would do when he arrived. He had only known that he wanted to go home. Now that he was here, he was a bit at a loss for his next move. Possibly by now they would know he was missing. He hadn’t sent word about not joining them for dinner so that would raise questions. When he didn’t turn up for supper, they would be sure to start looking for him. How long would it take before they thought to question Eothain? He couldn’t expect his friend to lie for him, and get into worse trouble, so they would eventually know his destination.

What would happen then? Would guards be sent to drag him back? His jaw tightened with determination, rebelling at the very idea, but unsure what he could do to prevent it if it happened. He had no quarrel with his kin; they had shown him only kindness, but they were not his parents. Eomer was the one given the charge to care for Eowyn, not them, and he must find a way to do it, though he had no clue how to proceed. 

His stomach grumbled, and he felt how little he had eaten today. When it was dark, he could go to his house and sneak in – he well knew where he could slip in or out unnoticed. Once the kitchen staff settled for the night he would be able to get some food there. The upper garret room was never used except for storage. He could hide up there for a while and likely no one would think to check. 

He pushed aside the thought that he was only postponing the inevitable, that they would surely find him in the end and he would be made to go back. In all honesty, he knew he must go back. Eowyn was there, and was depending on him. He couldn’t abandon her. With a heavy sigh, he leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Life was so very complicated, and he saw no solutions to…anything.

xxx

The king looked up as Hama entered with Garmund close behind him. “My lord, we have determined where Eomer is, but you will not like it,” Hama said solemnly, gesturing for Garmund to explain.

“My lord, I am very sorry, but it appears Eomer wished to go to Aldburg, and my son helped him to get a horse and leave Edoras undetected. He has been gone since shortly after the breakfast hour,” Garmund offered, looking worried as to the repercussions of his words.

The king rubbed fretfully at his forehead. “I should have known. I should have seen it coming. He has not been happy, and I think only the winter weather likely kept him from attempting this sooner.”

“My lord,” Garmund said, “I will take some men and go at once to bring him home.”

“No,” Theoden replied, looking up at him. “No, I must go. I will not have him dragged back like some prisoner guilty of a crime. I must speak with him and persuade him to return with me.”

“I am so very sorry, my lord,” Garmund said, regretfully. “My son will be sorely punished for his part in this.”

“No, the blame is not his,” Theoden argued, holding up a hand to forestall Garmund’s protest. “I am grateful the boy gave him a horse, else he might have attempted this on foot. At least mounted, there is some chance he made it safely. There is not much we can do tonight, but I want to ride at first light. Garmund, you will bring an escort of six men, and your son. He has been friendly with Eomer and so he may be of use to us.”

Garmund nodded his understanding of the orders as the king resumed his seat, and Hama signaled for Garmund to take his leave. “Have you further need of me, Sire?”

“Just make sure all is in readiness for tomorrow, Hama. And send Eowyn to me,” the king sighed tiredly, unheeding when his doorward left the room. How had things gotten so far out of hand?

xxx

Eomer must have fallen asleep for he awoke some time later, stiff and sore from the awkward position he was in. The barn was in darkness, and it took a few moments for his eyes to adjust and be able to make out the shadowy form of his horse and the furnishings of the building. He carefully made his way to the door and saw that the moon was already rising, and the town was mostly silent. Likely families were settling down to their supper, a thought that made his stomach growl once more, partially disguising the twinge of loneliness and despair that the notion caused.

After he had waited what seemed an acceptable period, Eomer quietly exited the barn and slipped through the shadows toward the large manor house near the front of the town. There would probably still be a guard at the entrance, but more than once he had scrambled over a back wall, making use of a convenient tree. From there, the vines provided handholds to ease himself to the ground, where he landed lightly, looking around to make sure he was not discovered. Satisfied that nothing disturbed the stillness of the night, he scurried to the cellar door. It could be entered from inside the house or out, and the inside entrance was in the back part of the kitchen where it was out of the way. He grabbed a couple of wrinkly winter apples and shoved them in his pockets for later. Much as he was tempted to eat one now, he feared the smell might catch someone’s attention.

A maid was still washing a few dishes in the kitchen, so he settled on the steps to wait for her to leave. It took more than a quarter hour by his estimate before she finished and doused the lanterns as she left the room. He waited a bit longer to make sure neither she nor anyone else returned, and then crept in. He had snuck into the kitchen often enough that he could readily make his way around in the semi-darkness. Luckily the rising moon coming through the window was mostly full tonight, making it easier for him to collect food and stuff it into a little-used hamper that had been stored in the cellar.

Once he had food, the next task was to get up to the uppermost floors without being seen. That was trickier, but not impossible. When his family had been in residence, there were more servants bustling about, but now only a minimal staff remained. He had overheard Theoden discussing whether to close the house entirely, but as yet no firm decision had been reached. His stomach clenched at the thought – closing the house would be as though even more of him had died.

With careful forays from floor to floor, ducking into empty rooms or behind curtains as needed, he reached the garret, breathing a sigh of relief. Somehow the moon seemed even brighter up here, and he stood for several long moments gazing out at it and feeling very alone. If nothing else, Eowyn would have missed him by now. He was sorry for the distress he was causing her, but he could never have managed this if he brought her along. Surely she would be fine until he was able to return, though even he did not know when that would be or under what circumstances.

He turned from the window and settled on a dusty chair, pulling the hamper closer and fishing out some cold meat to chew on. He would need to eat sparingly, as he didn’t want to have to get more food too soon. Cook would likely notice if too much food went missing all at once. _Cook._ How he longed for one of her hot apple tarts, covered in cream! She had known how much he liked them and tried to make them at least a couple of times each month just to see his grin of pleasure. He had missed her, and Betersel, and several others these past few months. They had virtually been a part of his family, too, and going to live in Edoras meant being torn from them also.

Despite his earlier nap, he found he was still very tired after his day’s efforts. At least an hour had passed while he ate and reminisced about life at Aldburg, so probably most would have retired to their rooms by now. If he was very quiet, he should be able to creep down and find a pillow and blankets to sleep on.

His excursion through the halls went without mishap, save one moment when Betersel had suddenly come upstairs for something and almost caught him out. She had paused, looking around at the head of the stairs and he thought she must have seen or heard him, but then she moved on, and returned downstairs soon after. He let out an unsteady breath, not having realized he was holding it. Part of him had almost wanted her to find him. Betersel was the head housekeeper, but she had cared for Eomer and his sister as if they were her own children, both before Theodwyn took ill, but especially after. It would have felt very good to have her enfold him in her arms and assure him all would be well.

But he could not risk it. She would feel obligated to notify his uncle, hastening his being returned to Edoras. No, he did not want to get her into trouble on his account. Bad enough that he’d had to involve Eothain in it.

His feet knew well the path to his old room. He had not seen it since that day Uncle Theoden had taken them to Meduseld. Inexplicably, he felt some hesitation as he stood at the door, but he squared his shoulders and slipped inside. He could make out the shape of a candle holder on the dresser, a candle stub still in it. Once his eyes adjusted to the shadows, he went to the bed and pulled the blanket out. He loaded his pillow and the candle holder into it, then went to the dresser. Most of his clothes had gone with him to Edoras, but there were some older shirts and pants that had been left behind. He collected them also, figuring he would eventually need a change of clothing.

Once he was finished, he sat down on the side of the bed and looked around. This room had been a haven for most of his life, but now it felt cold and unwelcoming. Maybe he didn’t truly have a home anymore, if Edoras felt strange and Aldburg no longer claimed him. His mother used to say that home was where the heart was, but at the moment he did not know where precisely that was for him. Perhaps his heart had gone to the Halls of Waiting when his parents left, and now he would only find dwellings here, but not a home.

His morose thoughts were bringing tears to his eyes, and he refused to yield. Rising, he gathered his bundle and slipped out of the room, closing the door with finality. It did not take long to make his way back to the garret. After looking around for several minutes, he was able to locate an old cracked wash basin. He set a scrap of fabric in the bottom and pulled out the flint his father had given him so long ago. It was trickier doing in such darkness, but he finally managed to strike a spark that smoldered on the fabric, and from it he got the candle lit. The light made the room slightly cheerier as it drove back the shadows. He watched the friendly flame dancing in the drafts, a small smile tweaking his mouth.

After a while, he got the blankets and laid out a bed on the floor. He stretched out on his back, staring at the ceiling overhead, but not allowing himself to think. At length, he rolled over and blew out the candle. He would need to use it sparingly, and try to find more, or it would not last long. As he settled back, not thinking he would be able to sleep, his eyes drooped closed and he dropped off more quickly than he would have expected.

xxx

The sun was not yet clear of the mountains when Theoden descended the steps to meet the waiting party. Eothain stood nervously beside his father, shivering slightly in the cool morning air. Theoden eyed him thoughtfully. Eomer had never said what the argument was about, but the king had learned it was Eothain who had given his nephew the black eye and bloody nose soon after the children came to Edoras. He might have spoken to Garmund about it, except that from that point on, Eomer seemed to spend a great deal of his time in the other lad’s company. Clearly, whatever their disagreement, they had thrashed it out and made peace. He had been glad to know the boy had made a friend, despite the circumstances, but apparently even that had not been enough to ease his adjustment to his new home.

The boy looked rather frightened by his perusal, so he gave a friendly smile. “Thank you for joining us, Eothain. I understand you have been a good friend to Eomer. Please know that I am not angry with you, though I am not pleased about what Eomer has undertaken. As difficult as it is for him, he must live here now.”

Eothain chewed his lip, but nodded, looking somewhat relieved by the king’s words.

“Mount up,” Theoden instructed, as it appeared all were ready.

xxx

Eomer awoke slowly, wondering why his bed felt so hard. Then he scowled as he took in the unfamiliar walls around him. After a moment, his sleep-fogged mind cleared and he remembered where he was. He sat up with a groan; he hadn’t realized how uncomfortable it was sleeping on the floor rather than a bed. 

Only now did he realize that he had failed to get any water during his forays in the night. He could have used a good splash of it in his face to help wake up, and now that he had thought of it he suddenly felt very thirsty. There was nothing to be done, though. He couldn’t worry about that until nightfall came again. 

With nothing better to do, he changed into some of his old clothes, and then settled back in the chair to eat his meager breakfast. His hunger exceeded what he felt it was safe to eat, but he dared not press his rations too far. At least the apples he’d obtained helped a little with his thirst.

The morning passed at a snail’s pace. He had a fix on where the sun was in the sky, and it seemed to barely move at all despite his constant checking. A little time was consumed exploring the garret, to see what it might hold that could be of use to him. Very little, as it turned out: some old furniture, his parents’ clothing stored away, but nothing much for the here and now of his situation.

He thought about Eowyn as he looked at some old toys, and wondered how she was faring. They would surely know by now that he was gone. Was someone on their way here already to get him? It was possible they hadn’t learned of Eothain’s involvement, and if not, then they might not know where he had gone. Still, where else would he go? Aldburg and Edoras were really the only places in the small world of his youth. They lived here and they visited his uncle there. Those places and the road in between were the sum of his experience.

He stretched out on his makeshift bed once more, face down on his stomach, his chin resting on his crossed arms. All things considered, hiding in the garret of his old home was…boring. He was used to being outside most of the day, free to roam the town if not leave it entirely. At least at Edoras he could spend time doing things with Eothain and the others. He rubbed his grumbling stomach ruefully; meals were plentiful and consistent also. Neither of the two garret windows faced the town, so he could not observe what was taking place there either. Plus, if he moved around too much, he might be heard, and then someone would come to locate the source of the noise.

Being in Aldburg was not so pleasing as wanting to be in Aldburg. He dared not venture forth to find any of his friends; during the day, just leaving the house without being noticed would be a challenge. And if anyone saw him around town, there would surely be questions. If word got back to Betersel that he had been sighted, she would come looking for him, he was sure, and Theoden’s men would not be far behind her. His beloved home had become a prison to him.

What would he do about the horse? The animal would need food and water eventually, and the stall must be cleaned. Eomer supposed he could wait until after dark and slip out then to do it. Only now was he realizing how little he had thought through this whole adventure.

Worse yet, he had not found the solace here he had been seeking. He had thought just coming home would bring him peace, but all the worries of being caught, and what he needed to do to conceal himself while still doing the essential things, were more an adding to his burden than an easing of it. A tear trickled from the corner of his eye before he could stop it, and the next moment he was sobbing uncontrollably.

xxx

“My lord!” Betersel exclaimed, as she recognized their visitor. “We were not expecting you! Do come in.” She gestured toward the house after favoring the king with a quick curtsy. 

With the other servants standing around, listening curiously, Theoden decided not to announce his purpose just then. “Garmund, have the horses seen to and then check with the cook. I am sure she can find something for the men to eat since breakfast was so hurried.”

The soldier nodded, as Theoden strode toward the house, Betersel scurrying to keep up with him. Once inside the entrance hall, Theoden waved her to follow and led the way to Eomund’s study. “Close the door, please, Betersel.”

She did so and he motioned to a chair for her to be seated as he settled behind the desk. For a moment, he glanced around the room, filled with memories of its former occupant, before he rubbed wearily at his face. “I have come about Eomer. I have reason to believe he rode to Aldburg yesterday, and hopefully he is within the town somewhere. I would think he would come here eventually. I do not suppose you have seen him.”

Betersel’s eyebrows knit together and she shook her head. “No, my lord, but…”

“Yes?”

“Cook said she thought there was some food missing this morning. I paid little attention to it, thinking someone merely got hungry and had a late meal, but perhaps there is another explanation. And, last night, when I went upstairs to fetch something I left up there, I had a feeling…well, I cannot explain it, but I sensed that someone was there.”

Theoden nodded. “Indeed.” He looked upward, thoughtfully. “He could not stay in his own room without being noticed, though perhaps he was in there looking for something. The garret, maybe?”

“It is possible, my lord. Eomer knows this house well. If I had to guess, I would think he snuck in through the cellar. From there, he would know all the hallways and passages to sneak upstairs without being seen.” She paused, then asked, “Shall I show you the way?”

Theoden sighed and shoved to his feet. “Thank you, but I know the way, and I think it best that I go alone. We will need to talk in private.”

She rose also and nodded. “Is there anything you would like before you go? Food?”

At her question, he paused thoughtfully. “Perhaps fix food for me to take up with me. He cannot have had much to eat or drink since yesterday.”

She curtsied again and went out the door to fill the request, and Theoden sat on the corner of the desk, wondering what to say to the boy when they were together. He supposed he would simply have to speak from the heart and hope that the proper words came to him in the moment.

A quarter of an hour later, hamper of food and drink in hand, Theoden climbed to the upper most floor. He did not purposely try to be quiet, but as he reached the garret door, he realized he had made little noise and so Eomer, if he was there, likely would not know he was coming.

The opening of the garret door instantly brought Theoden and Eomer face to face. Eomer was gazing out the window, lost in thought when it happened, and he was so startled that for a moment it almost seemed he was lost in a daydream, it was so unreal. Then with a rush came the recognition of who stood before him, and he knew it was no dream.

There was an unexpected mingling of pleasure and horror that the King had been the one to come fetch him back. He’d thought there was a slim possibility that Theodred would be the one sent to retrieve him, but he had never expected it to be the king himself. That momentary pleasure, though, was tempered with a sudden onset of fear, and guilt. The king’s presence might mean he was in worse trouble than he had imagined, especially since he surely did not have the time to go chasing across the land after wayward nephews.

Neither spoke for several minutes, but then Theoden moved into the room, closing the door behind him. He noted the tear-streaked dirty face of his nephew, clearly indicating all was still not well with the boy. Spotting the chair Eomer had been using, he settled in it and held out the hamper. “I brought dinner, if you are hungry.” He set it down and began extracting the food Betersel had packed. There was a bottle of wine, but also a couple of waterskins. He took one and held it out to the boy, “I would imagine you are thirsty.”

Hesitantly, Eomer moved forward to claim it, his dry throat begging for the relief. “Thank you, Uncle,” he said softly, before unstoppering it and eagerly drinking it down, spilling some down the front of him in his haste.

Refreshed, he also felt steadier, and sat down crosslegged next to the hamper. The two ate in silence for some time, but when it was clear both were finished, Theoden leaned back in the chair.

“I am not angry, Eomer, but it does sadden me that I have failed to make you feel at home at Meduseld. I realize this is difficult for you. Tell me what more I may do.”

Eomer felt guiltier than ever at his words. “It…it is nothing you have done…or not done,” he stammered. He fell silent, unable to explain.

When he said no more, Theoden seemed to understand that the boy did not have an answer for him. “Will you come back with me? Eowyn misses you, as do Theodred and I.”

Eomer merely nodded submissively. A victory of sorts, Theoden supposed, though far short of what he desired. This matter was not settled, but perhaps now some discussion would come that would lead to happier days. He gestured to the waterskin. “You might want to wash your face before we go. It is quite dusty up here.” He didn’t want the lad further embarrassed by others knowing he had been crying. When Eomer finished the task, Theoden rose, and Eomer followed suit. With an arm about the boy’s shoulders they moved to the door.

When they descended to the main floor, Betersel was waiting. She eyed each of them, but her gaze was mostly on Eomer. In the king’s presence, she hesitated, but then followed her instincts. Moving quickly forward, she swept the lad into her embrace and simply held him. In an instant, he was clinging to her tightly and she knew she had judged rightly. Behind Eomer, the king smiled his approval at her.

After several minutes, Eomer drew away, biting his lip and looking embarrassed.

“Betersel, my apologies for the disruption to your day. I am afraid we must get back to Edoras, but I thank you for your hospitality. Perhaps…” – he looked appraisingly at Eomer – “perhaps we will visit again soon, when we may stay longer.”

“My lord is always welcome here, of course,” Betersel assured, with a quick stroke to Eomer’s head to include him.

She walked outside with them, her arm around Eomer’s shoulders. Garmund and his son were seated on the front steps and both looked up, rising quickly when they spotted the king. As Theoden began giving Garmund instructions, Eothain flashed Eomer an apologetic look for giving him away. Eomer gave a slight shake of his head in return, hoping to convey that he held Eothain blameless, and the two grinned ruefully at each other.

It was a quiet procession making its way toward Edoras. Under other circumstances, Eothain and Eomer would have thoroughly enjoyed the outing and talked the entire way, but instead they rode silently beside father and uncle, respectively. 

Eomer could not resist a few sidelong glances at his uncle along the way. Why had the king come for him rather than sending someone? Was it possible that he mattered that much to his uncle? He could think of no other explanation, and it gave him a warm feeling. 

Even so, surely there would be some punishment for all he had done. He saw now that Aldburg could not solve his problems, and he would not make that mistake again. He would accept whatever censure he faced for his actions, and maybe – maybe – he would one day find peace within himself.

THE END

6/1/12 – 6/4/12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Eomer is 12, Eothain is 11, Eowyn is 8**
> 
> gar•ret  
> Definition of GARRET : a room or unfinished part of a house just under the roof
> 
> Origin of GARRET  
> Middle English garite watchtower, turret, from Anglo-French, from garir  
> First Known Use: 14th century
> 
> attic - garret is a synonym that seems to apply better  
> “manor house” was in use by 1575. “manor” in the 1400s


	9. Edification

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Eomer and his friends learn to be cautious about what they drink._
> 
> Eomer Chronicles 9.

**(Edoras, June, 3005 III)**

“Where did you get it?” Eothain asked in surprise, shaking the small casket and hearing that it was still mostly full.

Cadda grinned. “My brother and some of his friends had a couple of them. When they wandered off into the bushes,” – he winked significantly – “I snuck one away!” 

The three boys eyed each other expectantly. Finally, Cadda suggested, “Shall we try it? All the men drink strong ale. This will show them we are no longer boys.”

Eomer shifted uneasily, not certain about this. His uncle would surely not be pleased, but Eomer did wish to try it. He knew some of the men drank to excess and suffered for it, but many did not, so it must be safe…and he was curious. The ale served at supper was mostly the same thing, only not so strong as to intoxicate you. Yes, it would probably be safe. He nodded his agreement, and Eothain readily did the same.

“I could only carry one mug and the casket,” Cadda explained, as they set it down. “We will have to share.” 

He held out the mug and Eothain carefully worked the stopper from the cask, then poured a measure into the cup. There was another moment of hesitation, but then Eothain urged, “You first. You are the one that got the ale.”

Cadda looked a bit more nervous now that it actually came down to the drinking of it, but he swallowed hard and took a determined sip. It was sweeter, fruitier tasting than he expected, but it was definitely stronger than the stuff they drank with their meals. Truthfully, he could not see a whole lot of difference though. He shrugged and held out the cup for Eothain. “Pretty much tastes like our usual ale,” he told the others.

Eagerly Eothain took a swallow, swirling it around in his mouth as he passed the cup on to Eomer. After the barest hesitation, he followed their example. All stood watching each other, waiting for a comment. “It is good,” Eothain finally acknowledged, lifting the cask to refill the cup. “I do not see what all the fuss is about, though. Cadda is right – it is like what we drink with our meals. Maybe the taste is somewhat different, but close enough.”

Eomer took another swallow from the refilled mug and then passed it on. “No, not much difference at all. Still, since we have it, we should drink it. It is foolish to waste it.” The others agreed, and they settled on the ground in a circle, passing the cup and refilling as necessary. 

It seemed to take quite a while for the cask to empty, and Eomer was less inclined to drink more with each new cup, but it seemed dishonorable to leave it to the others. Cadda had become rather giddy, and was laughing at anything anyone said, whether it was amusing or not. _Was he drunk?_ Eomer wondered. He, himself, did feel a little lightheaded, but he did not think it was affecting him all that much. Uncharacteristically, Eothain had grown more silent the longer they drank.

Suddenly, Cadda belched loudly, something he also found terribly amusing, then shoved himself to his feet. He stood unsteadily, snickering, “Why’s th’ ground moving? Are orcses comin’?” He giggled at his words, obviously not concerned at that possibility, then staggered away from them. A moment later they heard him relieving himself.

Eothain shook the casket, that at last seemed drained, and looked at Eomer. “Is’s gone. I shou’…shou’...” He lapsed into silence, apparently forgetting what he had been about to say. 

With greater effort than it had ever taken, Eomer climbed to his feet. He couldn’t figure out why his arms and legs didn’t seem to want to do what he directed. “Mebbe you shou’ come wi’ me,” he slurred.

Eothain had managed to find his own feet, and stood precariously nearby, staring blearily at Eomer. After a moment, he nodded, though Eomer wasn’t sure he understood what had been said. Holding onto each other in order to stay on their feet, they staggered back toward Meduseld.

Once they reached the foot of the steps, they paused, daunted by the climb before them. A new thought insinuated itself – how would they get past the guards without being noticed? Eomer pondered this, but his brain couldn’t seem to come up with any ideas at the moment. Gravel crunched as Eothain moved over to the retaining wall by the spring.

“Shhhhhhhh, shhh! We don’ wannabe caugh’,” Eomer slurred unintelligibly. Not that it mattered. Eothain gave no indication that he’d heard, but merely leaned against the wall, hunched over and looking as though he might be ill. Eomer felt just the same as his friend. The walk home seemed to have had an unpleasant effect.

“Le’s sleep in th’ barn,” he whispered. “We won’ make it pas’ the…the guards.” His tongue was thick in his mouth, making it difficult to speak clearly. Even so, Eothain seemed to grasp his meaning, for he fell in beside him to stumble through the darkness.

They were fortunate that the watchman was in his room, and despite some noise, they were able to slip inside undetected. Eomer led the way toward the far end of the barn where he knew there was an empty stall. Once there, the two lowered themselves onto the straw with a groan. It was a relief to stop moving as the dizziness had been increasing with every step Eomer took. Beside him, Eothain had already rolled onto his side and begun snoring into his arm. For a moment, he wondered if Cadda had made it home, but the thought was gone almost as it formed – he couldn’t seem to concentrate very well. It was not long before his eyes slid closed and he followed Eothain into slumber.

xxx

“Well, well.” 

The voice slammed into Eomer’s brain. He had just begun to waken, and his sleep-fogged mind could not understand who was standing over him yelling so loudly. Worse still, it smelled as if someone had been ill, for the stench of sickness was strong in his nose. He peeked open one eye and discovered Theodred grinning down at him in bemusement, his arms crossed over his chest. A flick of his eyes revealed Eothain nearby and a pool of vomit between them. He vaguely thought he remembered Eothain being ill during the night, but the taste in his mouth made him wonder if perhaps it had been him instead, or as well.

He sat up slowly, leaning back against the stall wall, his head swimming. Even if it wasn’t him who had been ill earlier, he wasn’t at all sure he wouldn’t be very soon. With that realization also came an awareness of what his cousin’s presence meant, and a wave of shame and embarrassment washed through him. He could not look up to meet Theodred’s eyes, and not just because the light through the window was painful.

Eothain was still snoring nearby, and he pondered whether to wake his friend to face the consequences of their actions with him. Finally, he decided it might be better to talk with Theodred first, and get the worst of it out the way without a witness.

Carefully stepping over the vomit, Theodred came farther into the stall, and slid down the wall to take a seat beside him. For several minutes, he said nothing, and Eomer was not sure if he was more grateful for the silence or more anxious about what was to come.

At length, Theodred quietly explained, “Being a man is not shown by how much ale you are able to consume. It is in knowing how much you may drink before your thinking becomes clouded and your reactions are slowed. It is in knowing when to stop drinking so that you do not awaken to feel as if you were dragged behind your horse for several hours. Anyone may drink themselves into a stupor, but a wise man chooses not to do so, preferring to keep his wits about him at all times.”

Despite the persistent pounding in his head, Theodred’s words sunk slowly into Eomer’s consciousness, and he recognized the truth in them. He did not feel very manly at this moment, no matter what others might say.

“Uncle will be angry with me,” he mumbled, mortally shamed by what he had done. Surely some of the stablehands would have discovered them and alerted his cousin. He had embarrassed his uncle with his behavior.

“No,” Theodred replied. “He will understand. Every young man makes a few missteps as he tries new things. But he will be disappointed if this becomes a common occurrence. Men drink for different reasons. Sometimes it is merely a social activity in the company of others; other times it is to forget. Drink may dull any pain you are feeling, and make your problems seem to disappear, but I assure you that both pain and problems will return full force after the drinking is done. It can make you forget such things for a time, but it cannot make them go away entirely. Indeed, it merely brings more problems – and discomfort – of its own.”

After another couple of minutes, Theodred rose. “Wait here. I will bring you food and drink.” When Eomer blanched, he added, “Unappealing though it sounds, you need food in your stomach, and water to help cleanse your body of the spirits.” 

He disappeared out the stall door, and Eomer carefully moved over to nudge at Eothain. His friend grumbled and groaned, but finally opened his eyes in a squint. “I do not feel well,” he mumbled to the straw pressed against his face.

“I know,” Eomer replied. “Theodred is bringing food. He says eating will help.”

Eothain made a face, and slowly sat up, wincing as he did so. They sat in miserable silence, listening to the bustle of men tending the horses, until finally Eothain ventured, “What do you suppose became of Cadda? I do not recall where he went.”

Eomer thought hard a moment, then shrugged. “I am not sure. Maybe he went home.” He hesitated, then asked, “What about your family? They will notice you are not there for breakfast.”

His friend considered this, then said, “They knew I was with you last night, so perhaps they will assume I spent the night at Meduseld.” Despite the reassurance of his words, his face reflected his concern.

More silence ensued before Eomer asked, “What will your father say when he finds out what we have done?”

“I do not know,” Eothain confessed, reluctantly. “I hope he will not be too angry.” Then he added, “What about your uncle?”

Eomer bit his lip, then glanced out the stall door where Theodred had exited. “My cousin says he will understand, so long as I do not make a habit of this. I hope he is right.”

Just then, Theodred returned and settled back down with them. He held out a waterskin to each of them, instructing, “Use some to wash your faces, and a bit to rinse your mouths. Then drink the remainder – all of it.” He reached into a sack and brought out a loaf of fresh bread, tearing chunks off and handing some to each of them when they had finished doing as he’d told them. “Eat it all,” he said firmly.

It was difficult choking down the first few bites, but Theodred was right that it did seem to settle Eomer’s stomach to have food in it. Eothain looked slightly less pale as well. When they had finished all they could manage of the bread, Theodred told them, “The two of you need to clean this stall. Others should not have to clear up your mess.” He gestured at the vomit. “When you are done, I will sneak you into Meduseld. The best thing for both of you is to sleep, and continue drinking as much water as you can for the rest of the day. I will also bring some willowbark tea to ease the pain in your heads.” 

He glanced at Eothain, then added with a grin, “And I will explain to your father where you are.” He thought a moment, then chuckled and told them, “I will do my best to keep Eowyn away, but I make no promises! She can be most determined in her curiosity, especially where her brother is concerned.”

Eomer wasn’t sure how exactly they made it into Meduseld and his bedchamber without being waylaid by anyone, in particular his sister. Regardless of how it was accomplished, he was appreciative. Though the food and water had made him feel less queasy, his head still felt as though it was going to split open with every sound that was even moderately loud. He focused on merely getting there, and collapsed on the bed as soon as they entered the room. Eothain sprawled beside him, clearly in no better condition. For a moment, Theodred stood in the doorway, a sympathetic grin on his face. At length, though, he told them, “Get some sleep. That is the best thing for it.”

Neither boy bothered with doing more than kicking off their boots, before sinking gratefully into the pillows. Soon both were asleep once more. 

Eomer did not know how long they had slept, before he was jolted awake by his door crashing open. “Eomer! What is wrong? Theodred says you are ill?” He could not suppress the groan that erupted, and he flung an arm over his eyes in a vain effort to shut out everything around him. It was Eowyn, talking far louder than he would have wished.

Wincing, he raised up on one elbow to glare at her. “Eowyn! Go away. Can you not see Eothain is asleep, and Theodred says I should rest if I am to be well?”

He hoped rather than believed that would be sufficient for her, and he was correct. “But what is wrong with you? Is Eothain ill also? Theodred did not explain how you got sick. And why does it stink in here?” She wrinkled her nose, looking around for the source.

“I do not know how, I just did,” he snapped with annoyance. “Now go away. I will talk to you later!” At the look of stubbornness rising on her face, he added a conciliatory, “Please?”

The courtesy he extended paid off, and her expression softened. “Very well. I…I hope you feel better soon. Eothain also.” She turned and left, letting the door bang closed behind her and causing Eomer to wince again.

His eyes fell on the table by his bed, and he saw that Theodred had brought the promised willowbark tea while they slept. Although his head had eased slightly from the other measures they had taken, it still throbbed, so he reached for one of the two cups. It must have been sitting a while as it was cold, and the taste bitter without honey to sweeten it, but he forced some down, trusting Theodred to know what would help.

Eothain shifted slightly beside him and mumbled, “I am very glad I do not have curious sisters!”

Eomer chuckled softly and lay back down. “She has her moments, but this is not one of them. Try to get back to sleep. I do not believe she will return.”

He was met with silence and thought Eothain had already drifted off, but a few minutes later, just as he was starting to doze again himself, his friend suggested, “Ale is good, I do not deny, but let us strike a bargain never to do this again. The drinking of it to excess is not so pleasurable as to outweigh such misery afterwards.”

“Aye,” Eomer agreed with a sigh. “My sentiments exactly.”

THE END

6/12/12 – 7/3/12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As I don’t drink alcohol and have never been hungover, this story is mostly based on research about ale and hangovers. Many of you likely already know that ale was commonly consumed by all in medieval times, though it was not “hard liquor”. The following are two excerpts from different sites that will provide more information on this subject. There was another site that mentioned that sugar or such was added to increase the alcohol content, and said bittering agents needed to be added to counteract the sweetness of ale in general, and thus the reason I have suggested the boys considered it sweeter than what they usually drank at meals.
> 
> **“Ale, along with bread, was an important source of nutrition in the medieval world, particularly small beer, also known as table beer or mild beer, which was highly nutritious, contained just enough alcohol to act as a preservative, and provided hydration without intoxicating effects. Small beer would have been consumed daily by almost everyone in the medieval world, with higher-alcohol ales served for recreational purposes. The lower cost for proprietors combined with the lower taxes levied on small beer led to the selling of beer labeled "strong beer" that had actually been diluted with small beer.”**
> 
> **…“Unlike modern beers that are flavored with flowers of the hop plant, the Eberdingen-Hochdorf brew probably contained spices such as mugwort, carrot seeds or henbane, in Stika’s opinion. Beer makers are known to have used these additives by medieval times. Excavations at the Celtic site have yielded a few seeds of henbane, a plant that also makes beer more intoxicating.”**


	10. Patrol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _A patrol isn’t so routine as expected._

**(Hornburg, May 3011 III)**

Theodred exited through the Inner Gate from the Burg, and saw Eothain and Eomer standing on the wall above the Great Gates. The two were laughing, likely over something Eothain had said, typical of their behavior when together. He watched them for a moment. While it was good to see his cousin smiling these days, he was finding it increasingly difficult to find laughter in the world.

With a sigh, he tried to shake off his worries and went to join the young men. As he drew near, he called, “Have you two come to work or to loll about at your leisure?”

Both turned to look at him, sobering slightly but unable to repress their grins. Even so, Eomer told him earnestly, “We are yours to command, Theodred. What would you have us do?”

Theodred returned the grin and told them, “Perhaps patrol for the hour until dusk. We can only see so much from the walls and I prefer to know if anything is moving nearby before it comes upon us.”

“Show us where you would have us go,” Eomer replied, and they followed Theodred back to the Burg to look at the maps.

xx

As the two rode down the Causeway, Eothain observed, “An easy assignment, this. Who would dare approach the Hornburg? I know my father believes the wizard at Isengard cannot be trusted, and is behind the Orcs and Dunlendings attacking across the Westfold, but surely they are too few to challenge us here.”

Eomer shrugged. “Theodred knows what he is doing. He spends more and more time in the Westfold. If he believes this is necessary, then I will take it seriously. And, if nothing comes of it, all the better. We get to enjoy a quiet ride before supper.”

“Hmmm, true that,” Eothain agreed, as they turned west and crossed the Deeping Stream. After that, they rode in silence for a long while, keeping a sharp eye around them.

Presently, Eomer suggested, “If we ride up into the hills a little way, we may be able to get a good overlook and see farther.”

Eothain nodded, and followed as Eomer led the way to a faint trail. The greater height did allow them to see farther, but the trail itself was narrow and little used. They had to keep almost as close an eye on the ground as on the horizon. 

“Maybe this was not such a great idea,” Eomer acknowledged. “And I do not like the look of those clouds. We are in for a storm. We should get back to the lower ground where the footing will be less treacherous.” Though the day had been overcast, due to the shadow of the mountain and nearing dusk, it had not been readily apparent just how much the sky was becoming threatening. Now it could not be overlooked.

The words were barely from his mouth before a loud clap of thunder signaled a downpour. They hunched deeper in their cloaks, found a spot wide enough to turn around and began to pick their way back down the hill. The rain brought the dusk upon them sooner than expected, so it was more difficult to see the trail, and the thunder and lightning were making the horses uneasy.

They had nearly reached the level ground once more when the slippery footing sent Tungol’s legs askew. As the animal fought to keep from falling, Eomer, who had been hunched over watching for the trail, lost his seat and hit the ground hard. There was still a fairly steep slope and he skidded some distance before his ankle snagged on a rock. It brought him to a stop, but the flare of pain that shot through his leg told him he was not unscathed. 

Eothain had managed to catch hold of Tungol’s trailing reins, and carefully led the horse down to where Eomer was sprawled.

“Wonderful,” he commented. “A fine way to end our patrol.” He glanced around and then pointed. “I think I saw a cave over there when we were going up. Stay here and I will have a look. If I can get you inside we can see how bad it is.”

“Is Tungol hurt?” Eomer asked, more concerned about that than his own situation.

“He does not seem to be. He is moving without difficulty. Wait here.”

He was gone for several minutes, but when he returned, Tungol was no longer with him. “I was right about the cave – well, sort of. It is more a rock overhang than a cave, but there is enough room to get the horses out of the rain also.” He stepped down from his horse. “Can you stand, if I help you?”

Eomer nodded grimly, steeling himself for the effort. He was quite sure this was going to be painful. Once they got to the cave, Eothain could perhaps bind it to provide support until they got back to the Hornburg.

He hissed as Eothain caught him under the arms and heaved him upward. The pain nearly made him black out, but he managed to grit his teeth and stave it off. Even so, he was breathing heavily. He was fortunate that Eothain was so big and had been able to do most of the work.

Eothain eyed him for a moment, and then said apologetically, “It might hurt more trying to get you on my horse than just walking with my assistance. The cave is not that far, but…”

Without a word, Eomer gestured for him to move closer and he clasped onto his friend’s shoulder. Slowly, step by painful step, they worked their way toward shelter. It seemed to take an eternity to traverse the ground, though Eomer suspected it was not very long. Eothain helped him lean against the rock wall and he carefully slid down to sit on the ground, a sharp exhale of breath the only sign of the relief he felt.

Once Eothain got his own horse settled next to Tungol, and took a better look at Tungol’s condition, he came to join Eomer. “Tungol seems unhurt. I could not detect anything being sensitive to the touch. Unfortunately for you, I think you came off the worst in this.”

He considered briefly, and then said, “I am thinking it might be better to try to bind your ankle inside the boot, rather than remove it. At least until we get back. If we remove the boot, it will hurt a great deal, and I am not sure we could get it back on afterwards.”

Eomer nodded his agreement, too focused on controlling the pain with force of will. Eothain eyed his pale face and suspected his friend was in agony, but there was little that could be done. After a moment, he stood and rummaged through their things. As this was only a short patrol, they had not brought much with them – no food or extra clothing. He considered other options, then went back to the cave entrance where he was able to find two fairly sturdy sticks of the needed length. 

Before he could turn back, a noise caught his attention out in the rain, and he stopped to listen more closely. When he didn’t hear anything but the storm for a couple of minutes, he decided he was mistaken. However, just as he turned back to his task, the noise came again, and this time with no mistake. Possibly Theodred had sent help and they were trying to find their two missing Riders, but a prickling at the back of his neck led him to think it was nothing so fortunate. And then he heard the gutteral speech being spoken and he knew – Orcs. He couldn’t be sure how many and wasn’t inclined to venture forth to find out.

His mind raced, searching for options. At length, he decided that the first thing that needed doing was to get Eomer’s ankle bound. After that, they needed to get out of here and fast. He didn’t like their chances of staying undetected in this cave.

Eomer’s eyes were closed when he knelt beside him, his head resting against the wall, but he opened them. Even in the near darkness, something in Eothain’s countenance alerted him that all was not well.

“What?” he asked softly, inherently understanding the need for caution.

“Orcs, nearby outside. I do not think they have noticed us yet, but I do not trust that to remain so. Let us get this done quickly,” Eothain whispered.

Eomer nodded and steeled himself. They could not afford for him to cry out just now. And it took all his willpower not to do so, but once Eothain had secured the ankle, using the sticks and his own shirt torn into strips, the dull throb did seem slightly less sharp than before.

While he had been working, a plan had formed in Eothain’s mind and now he expressed it to Eomer. “I think our best chance is for me to ride out fast – charge down upon them and then race past, but slow enough that they will hopefully try to follow. If we are fortunate, they will think I was sheltering from the rain and am alone. That will give you time to get on your horse and do the same. They will not expect a second rider to come from behind them.”

Eomer’s eyes went wide in horror. “Eothain, no! I forbid it – that is an order!” Eomer hissed.

The big man grinned. “An order? Who do you think you are – the king?”

“Never!” Eomer snorted dismissively, “But I _am_ the king’s nephew and so I rank above you! It is too dangerous.”

Eothain snickered. “Oh, yes, I forgot – _my lord_! But it is more dangerous for us to remain here. This is our best choice.”

With that he stood and moved quickly away before Eomer could argue further. Eomer did not dare call after his friend to make him stop, and suspected the attempt would fail anyway. The fool! The big oaf would get them both killed! Or worse, he would get himself killed trying to save Eomer.

Gritting his teeth, Eomer pushed himself up the wall until he was standing. He used the wall to hobble toward the front of the cave where Tungol was tied. He could see Eothain swinging into the saddle and drawing his sword. Then, with only a glance back at Eomer, he urged his horse out into the rain. 

In only moments, there was a loud yell and the sounds of shrieking Orcs. Not waiting to learn the outcome, Eomer made his way to Tungol as quickly as he could, every step agony, but the thought of Eothain needing his help pushed him through it. He eyed the horse and the stirrups for a moment, realizing the usual way of mounting would not work well just now. Luckily, he had spent a lot of time riding bareback. He caught firm hold of the saddle horn and swung himself up. The wave of pain and nausea almost made him fall off the other side, but he managed to hang on, and Tungol did not move, as though understanding the need for steadiness.

Once he had caught his breath, Eomer slipped his good foot into the stirrup for extra balance and leverage, drew his sword, and charged in the direction Eothain had gone. He could still hear Orcs shrieking somewhere out in the rain, and hoped that meant they were being frustrated in their efforts to catch Eothain.

It did not take long to find the Orcs, and Tungol barreled into them at a gallop, bodily knocking several down in the process. Eomer didn’t try to stop and fight, though he swung his sword at any close to him and bellowed as fearsomely as he could. The surprise assault worked, and the small group turned to either side in disarray and confusion, unsure what was happening. Not waiting for them to recover, now that he was on fairly level ground he pressed Tungol to a full run.

Ahead of him, Eothain had gained enough distance to slow his pace and watch behind him for Eomer, to return to his aid if necessary. With great relief, Eomer spotted a small group of Riders behind Eothain, coming from the Hornburg. The Orcs must have noticed also, for they now turned and fled to the cover of trees and rocks. The Riders provided sufficient protection for the two young men to hasten across the Deeping Stream and up the Causeway, and the search party was close behind them.

They rode straight to the stables in the Inner Court, and Eothain quickly dismounted, hurrying to assist Eomer. He swung his good leg over the horn and then slid down, holding tightly to the horn and letting Eothain help to break his landing. Even so, it jarred the ankle most painfully.

Theodred rushed up just then, apparently having been apprised of their return. He noted Eomer’s pale, tight expression and the binding on his leg. “You know,” he told them, “Elfhelm sent you here to learn something of the situation in the Westfold, not so you could return to him damaged! I am sure he will blame me for this!”

Both young men gave him a strained smile in response. Theodred signaled to a couple of nearby Riders to take their horses for them, and moved in on Eomer’s other side to help assist him into the Hornburg. Over his shoulder, he called to his esquire, “Find the leech.”

To help distract Eomer from the pain of moving, Theodred inquired about the patrol, and Eothain filled him in on the particulars. He frowned at the news. “Usually they do not dare come so close. How many did you say?”

“Less than a dozen, I think,” Eomer said. “A scouting party, perhaps? Checking for weaknesses in our defense?”

“Possibly,” Theodred acknowledged, pleased with Eomer’s strategical thinking. “But it is worrying, even if the Hornburg is nigh unbreachable. I would dearly love to know what that wizard is doing.”

The leech arrived to tend Eomer, but before Theodred left him to his work, he grinned at his cousin and Eothain. “I suppose I will have to send word to Elfhelm that I am to keep you longer than anticipated. Until that leg heals, there is little point in sending you back to your eored.” Then he chuckled and added, “And I think I must warn any ladies who agree to be your wives never to leave the two of you alone for very long. You do seem to find mischief when unattended!”

He began to laugh heartily as he exited over their protests.

THE END

5/15/12, 10/17/15-10/18/15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eomer-20; Eowyn-16; Eothain-19
> 
> **A/N2: Trying to research the layout of the Hornburg and surrounding area was challenging. As usual, I found what details I could and then filled in the rest with “imagination”. Tolkien only ever mentions people “residing” in the caves during a siege, but as it was Erkenbrand’s “residence”, I tend to think there were rooms within the Hornburg itself (and that is what I have put in various Elfwine Chronicle stories).**
> 
> **Also, someone thought "He does not seem to be. He is moving without difficulty." was odd phrasing. Actually, that is me being "horsey"! It can be difficult to tell when a horse is in pain, but one of the ways to do it is to watch how they move - whether they favor anything (leg, foot, etc.), or move stiffly, or whatever. That is what "moving without difficulty" is referring to. Sorry for any confusion. I sometimes forget that not everything I know is common knowledge to everyone else (or vice versa).**  
>  **In case you are interested, here is something of a chronology for the Eomer Chronicles thus far, along with the location. I have to keep track of things like this so I know ages at any given time and other pertinent details (and it helps for putting new Chronicles into place – ie. for this Chronicle I figured out how old I wanted the boys to be and for it to be prior to Theoden falling under Grima’s influence, plus I needed to know that Tungol hadn’t died in battle yet).  
>  \-------------------------------  
> 3002 – ec2 – Theodwyn dies and children go to live with Theoden (Aldburg) (Eom-11; Eow-7)  
> [I had Theodwyn die the same year as Eomund]  
> 3002 - ec1 – Eomer and Eothain first meet (Edoras) (Eom-11; Eow-7)  
> early May 3003 – ec8 – Eomer flees back to Aldburg (Edoras, Aldburg) (Eom-12; Eow-8)  
> late May 3003 – ec7 – Theoden gives Eomer horse to train (Tungol) (Edoras) (Eom-12; Eow-8)  
> Jun 3003 – ec4 has Eomer working with a young colt (Tungol) (Edoras) (Eom-12; Eow-8)  
> Jun 3005 – ec9 – boys get drunk (Edoras) (Eom-14; Eow-10)  
> Oct 3007 – ec5 – Eomer’s first time in battle (battlefield) (Eom-16; Eow-12)  
> May 3011 – ec10 – Eothain and Eomer patrol at the Hornburg (Hornburg) (Eom-20; Eow-16; Eoth-19)  
> Feb 3013 – ec6 – battle in which Tungol dies, sword broken (battlefield) (Eom-22; Eow-18)  
> 3014 Theoden begins to fall under the influence of Grima Wormtongue. (Eomer-23; Eowyn-19)  
> 3017 Eomer becomes Third Marshal of the Mark (Thd persuades father to do it) (Eom-26; Thd-39; Eow-22)  
> May 3019 - ec3 – Eomer returning to Edoras as King (Edoras) (Eom-28; Eow-24)**


	11. Battle Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Eomer’s broken sword needs replacing._
> 
> Eomer Chronicles 11.

He needed a sword – a good sword. He had carried and used Cadda’s sword for a time and not been uneasy about it. The sword had served him well until he was able to return it to Cadda’s family. That sword had been buried with Cadda – not an uncommon practice in the Mark. 

After that, he spent the next three years trying different swords from the armory, but none of them felt…quite right. They worked, they filled their purpose, but somehow they felt unnatural in his hand, and he did not like carrying that feeling into battle.

With the King increasingly under the influence of the Worm – he and Theodred suspected the Wizard at Isengard was behind that – and with orc attacks growing ever more bold, his sword was the last thing he wanted to worry about. He knew what he should do, what it made sense to do, but still he hesitated.

He had not spoken of it a great deal, but after the few times he had complained about the swords from the armory, Elfhelm had asked him why he did not use Eomund’s sword. Yet he found that idea…troubling.

Everyone told him that his worries were unfounded. He should be honored to carry the sword of so great a warrior as his father had been. He _was_ honored…but that did not ease his fears. Fears that the sword was somehow tainted. That it was bad fortune to carry the same sword as a man who had fallen in battle.

Yet, he had not felt that way carrying Cadda’s sword. Why was it so different with his father’s blade? He would have expected the sword to have been buried with his father, but it wasn’t. He knew precisely where it was – he had been the one to put it there, never to look upon it again.

He realized he didn’t know why Eomund’s sword had _not_ gone to his grave with him, in tribute of his great valor and service to the Mark. Did not know why and was all the uneasier for it.

When he was a boy, he had been fascinated with his father’s sword, and Eomund had sternly warned him that he must never touch it, only look. Possibly for that reason, Theoden had given him his own small wooden sword and shield to play with, but always he gazed on Eomund’s sword with wonder. When his parents were not around, he sometimes snuck into their chamber to gaze at the sword hung with Eomund’s armor. He would finger the decorative figures on the sheath and dream of being a great warrior like his father.

But when Eomund’s hewn body was carried back to them after the Orc ambush, the sword that lay beside his father was not so alluring. It seemed cold and menacing, and he did not like even being in the same room with it, as if it might somehow cause him harm, though even at eleven years he had known such a fear was irrational.

But, now, practicality won out. He needed a sword. It was a good sword, of the finest craftsmanship. And so he rode to Aldburg and brought it from its dusty grave in the garret. He had not seen it in over ten years. When he had fled Edoras as a boy and concealed himself in the garret until Theoden came to retrieve him, he had carefully avoided the blade he knew was tucked away there. He had not even wanted a glimpse of it. Now, he must glimpse it. And use it.

Truthfully, it handled pretty much as any other blade he had ever used. He trained with it, rode into battle with it, and he never had trouble defending himself with it. Yet still he was uneasy every time he strapped it on, as though it were an ill omen to carry with him. He had never spoken of his thoughts to anyone once he had finally claimed it, though a time or two he saw Elfhelm watching him when he sparred. If anyone guessed at his inner turmoil, he thought it might be Elfhelm, who knew the entirety of Eomer and the sword’s history.

Despite any misgivings, Eomer always acquitted himself well on the battlefield, and grew to be both a strong and bold warrior. But, unlike his father, Eomer’s boldness was more tempered with judgement. Despite whatever praise he received for his prowess, however, he still was stunned when Theodred managed to persuade the King to name Eomer as Third Marshal. He was less than thirty years old, so it would not have been unreasonable for a more experienced man to be given the coveted assignment. After the deed was done – while Grima was away from Meduseld, Eomer noted – Theodred took his cousin aside and assured him he knew what he was doing with this choice. “I need someone guarding the East-mark that I can trust implicitly. These are dark times, Eomer, and I cannot guard on every front by myself. You I trust without reserve,” Theodred explained.

Eomer was humbled by his cousin’s vote of confidence, though not entirely surprised. With all the increasing uncertainties of life, there were few he trusted so completely either. Theodred was one of them. And, so, it was done, and there was one more line of defense against the forces of evil that threatened the Mark.

It had been three days later – he was to depart for Aldburg the next day and take up his command – when Elfhelm found him, presumably to bid him farewell and wish him well. But the older man had more on his mind.

“I know it has troubled you, carrying Eomund’s sword,” Elfhelm said, and Eomer glanced away in embarrassment. “Be assured, I do not lack understanding for your feelings in the matter. Still, at such a time, I think Eomund would agree you have outgrown handed-down gear.” He laid a wrapped bundle on Eomer’s bed, and stepped back.

For just an instant, Eomer hesitated, his breath catching in his throat. He could guess what was concealed in the wrapping; was overwhelmed by Elfhelm’s thoughtfulness and generosity. Carefully, he untied the string and pulled the wrapping loose to reveal the blade. With great purpose, he drew it from its sheath and made a few practice swings. To his amazement, the sword felt almost as an extension of his arm, so natural was it in his hand.

He was choked by the emotion rising within him. The gift of a sword was a fine thing when given by anyone, but he recognized that in this Elfhelm was representing his father. Usually it was a boy’s father who gave him his first well-crafted blade, one that went beyond mere practicality. “Thank you,” he finally managed to whisper.

But Elfhelm understood, and snared the younger man in his embrace. “Carry it with pride and may it serve you well, Marshal!” he replied. He drew back and asked curiously, “What shall you name it?”

Eomer studied the blade a moment, before decisively resheathing it. “Guthwine,” he answered with a smile.

THE END

10/18/15 – 11/1/15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guthwine information gleaned from Thain’s Book, back online at www dot thainsbook dot net. 
> 
> Gúthwinë - Sword of Eomer. Eomer wielded Guthwine throughout the War of the Ring.  
> Names & Etymology: Gúthwinë means "battle friend" from the Old English guð meaning "battle, war" and winë meaning "friend."  
> Source: The Two Towers: "The King of the Golden Hall," p. 121-22; "Helm's Deep," p. 139  
> The Return of the King: "The Battle of the Pelennor Fields," p. 123  
> In case you are interested, here is something of a chronology for the Eomer Chronicles thus far, along with the location. I have to keep track of things like this so I know ages at any given time and other pertinent details (and it helps for putting new Chronicles into place).  
> \-------------------------------  
> 3002 – ec2 – Theodwyn dies and children go to live with Theoden (Aldburg) (Eom-11; Eow-7) [I had Theodwyn die the same year as Eomund]  
> 3002 - ec1 – Eomer and Eothain first meet (Edoras) (Eom-11; Eow-7)  
> early May 3003 – ec8 – Eomer flees back to Aldburg (Edoras, Aldburg) (Eom-12; Eow-8)  
> late May 3003 – ec7 – Theoden gives Eomer horse to train (Tungol) (Edoras) (Eom-12; Eow-8)  
> Jun 3003 – ec4 has Eomer working with a young colt (Tungol) (Edoras) (Eom-12; Eow-8)  
> Jun 3005 – ec9 – boys get drunk (Edoras) (Eom-14; Eow-10)  
> Oct 3007 – ec5 – Eomer’s first time in battle (battlefield) (Eom-16; Eow-12)  
> May 3011 – ec10 – Eothain and Eomer patrol at the Hornburg (Hornburg) (Eom-20; Eow-16; Eoth-19)  
> Feb 3013 – ec6 – battle in which Tungol dies, sword broken (battlefield) (Eom-22; Eow-18)  
> 3014 Theoden begins to fall under the influence of Grima Wormtongue. (Eomer-23; Eowyn-19)  
> 3017 Eomer becomes Third Marshal of the Mark (Thd persuades father to do it) (Eom-26; Thd-39; Eow-22)  
> 3013-3017 – ec11 – Eomer seeks to replace his sword that was broken (Aldburg, Edoras) (Eomer-22-26)  
> May 3019 - ec3 – Eomer returning to Edoras as King (Edoras) (Eomer-28; Eowyn-24)
> 
> *********************************************************************
> 
> My thoughts in writing this:
> 
> Swords, if not damaged or lost, usually were passed on to a living relative (a son) – particularly if the expense of buying a sword for a boy about to come of age would be a hardship on the family. Other times, as with Theoden, it was buried with the person (particularly if there was no direct heir) as a sign of their valor and distinction.
> 
> In Eomund’s case, there was much confusion with his death and uproar in the household when his body was brought home. The sword lay near him for more than a day, no one paying much attention to it, though perhaps vaguely assuming Eomer would inherit it. But Eomer, distressed by the sight of it, took it to the garret so as to not have to look at it. Everyone assumed it had been put away until the boy was older.
> 
> Over the years, it was all but forgotten, and even Eomer did not remember all the particulars of that traumatic time. Yes, he knows that he took it to the garret, but does not necessarily connect that as being the reason it wasn’t buried with Eomund. And, perhaps a part of him knows everyone expects him to inherit it and he does not want to do so after seeing his father broken and bleeding, hewn down.
> 
> For that reason, when he realizes the sensible thing to do to replace his broken sword is to take up Eomund’s, he still is uneasy about it because part of him still vaguely thinks of it as “cursed”. Not entirely rational, but true. That is the reason that using Cadda’s sword did not bother him, for the time he had it. Being older when Cadda died, it was less traumatic to him and his understanding was greater than that of an 11 yr old boy.
> 
> Likely Elfhelm, who was there when Eomund was killed and for the subsequent burial, can guess at Eomer’s inner turmoil and decides that he needs a new blade, one free of any tainting memory. And, part of him feels a responsibility to stand in Eomund’s stead (as Eomund’s friend) in giving the traditional sword to a young man at an auspicious time in his life. For most young men it was coming of age at 16, but in this case it is Eomer’s being named Third Marshal.


	12. New Domain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Eomer reluctantly faces another change in his life._
> 
> Eomer Chronicles 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **For the few who are reading these, thank you. I hope you've enjoyed them. Unfortunately, this is the last one currently written. That does not mean I won't add more if inspiration comes to me and I write something new. It just means this is the last one _for now_. I am open to story suggestions, though I do not promise to do anything with them. But several stories have been the result of something a reader suggested.**
> 
> **Remember, these do tie to my series the Elfwine Chronicles (on fanfiction.net) and there are about a gazillion...or maybe only about 200 of those. If you get bored during enforced quarantine/stay at home to be safe. In addition to those, there are the prelude long stories of Eomer and Lothiriel's courtship and marriage that tie to the Elfwine Chronicle series and this one. I am on fanfiction.net as Deandra (covered bridge icon) [https://www.fanfiction.net/u/667069/Deandra].**

(late June, 3019)

This was wrong. The throne was one thing, but this? He just stared at the familiar door. He should leave now. Tell them he had changed his mind. But still he stood there and stared.

Suddenly it was opened from within, leaving him feeling like a naughty boy caught at some mischief. 

Durucwen’s face reflected that she was as startled as he felt. “Oh! My lord! My apologies. I was just making a final check that all was in readiness for you.”

Now he had no choice – he must enter the room. “Thank you, Durucwen,” he murmured so as to dismiss her. She bobbed a curtsy to him and went off down the hall.

He scowled. This was Eowyn’s fault. He had been fine in his old room, until earlier when he discovered it had been torn apart. His clothes, his armor, his weapons – all were missing when he entered there after the noon meal. He had summoned his presumptuous sister, recognizing her hand in it, only to have her stand her ground.

“You need to do this, Eomer. It is time. When our guests come for Theoden’s funeral they should see the King of the Mark acting the part, in full. You would not have anyone think you hesitant or reluctant to take your place, would you?”

“Of course not,” he spat, turning away from her. He paced around the familiar space a moment and then charged out the door, without another word or backward glance.

With a sigh, Eowyn folded her arms and watched him go. She had hoped taking the initiative would make the decision easier for him, but his stubbornness would not yield lightly. It wasn’t that she did not understand his feelings in the matter, and sympathize, but she knew this was an important step for him to take.

Eomer had avoided the subject, returning to the Hall and occupying himself with other tasks. But, eventually, he was forced to consider what Eowyn had said. And so he found himself standing here.

Heaving a sigh, he took a step forward, then another, until he stood just inside the door. He had expected it to look just the same as it always had when he had occasion to visit Theoden’s chamber. Instead, it was transformed. The bed was still the large King’s bed, but the linens were fresh and and the coverlet from his own bed lay across the foot of it. It was threadbare and worn with age, and much too small for the size of the bed, but he had brought it from Aldburg as a boy. It had sentimental value to him – one of the few things that did.

His armor was situated in the same corner as it had been in his old room, and the furniture had been rearranged to a similar configuration as he’d had before. He almost thought that if he closed his eyes he could walk the space of this room with utter safety, so like were they laid out.

The tension in his shoulders eased, and he allowed a small smile to twitch at his lips. He should have given his sister more credit. She might press him to make certain changes, but she well knew how best to make those changes palatable to him if it must be done.

Tentatively he eased down on the side of the bed. Firm, but comfortable. He stretched out, letting the last of his reservations slide away.

THE END

8/31-16 – 8/31/16


End file.
